Wild World
by theSeacopath
Summary: Nate Howard, the Sole Survivor, wakes up in Vault 111 to a world changed forever. Shaun has been taken, and Nate will stop at nothing to reunite his family. Crossover with Mad Max universe. THIS IS NOT A STEP-BY-STEP WALKTHROUGH OF FALLOUT 4! Rated T for now, but may change later. Enjoy! -the Seacopath
1. Chapter 1: Cold Blooded Murder

"Wild World"

Prologue: Cold-Blooded Murder

 _Soundtrack: Aperture Science Psychoacoustics Laboratory – "You Know Her?"_  
Nate Howard struggled to rouse himself from the depths of unconsciousness. Every part of his body ached, and he was chilled to the bone. A quick glance around revealed that Nate was inside some kind of canister, the interior frosted over, with a single window looking out. Through the window, Nate could dimly see a similar canister. As he stared into the other canister's window, Nate's memory jolted.

 _A man in a yellow trench coat… "Vault-Tec calling…" Codsworth tending to Shaun… "Confirmed reports of nuclear detonations…" A breathless, panicked run… A flash brighter than a thousand suns… A roar like the end of the world… "Go! I'll take Shaun; just go!" A wall of black cloud approaching at impossible speed… Wailing alarms… "I love you so much…"_

Nate leaned forward and slammed his hand against the glass, just as a face peered in from outside. " _This little fish is awake, too,"_ a voice said, muffled by the canister's thick glass window.  
" _Just leave him in there,_ " another voice replied. " _This pod's got what we need._ "  
A bald man dressed in a leather coat approached the pod across from Nate's, which contained his wife Nora and baby Shaun. Nate weakly thumped his fist against the glass window, as the masked men opened Nora's pod. Nora stirred from her sleep and held tightly to Shaun.

Nate barely heard the words through the capsule's wall, but the bald man's meaning was clear; _give me the baby_. Nate shouted angrily and pounded against the metal wall again as Nora struggled with one of the masked men who tried to wrestle Shaun from her grasp. Nora struggled harder as the bald stranger pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.  
" _NO!_ " Nate heard Nora shout. " _I'm not giving you Shaun!_ "  
The gunshot cut through the room and turned Nate's blood to ice.  
" _NOOO!_ "

Chapter 1: Technical Difficulties

 _Soundtrack: Aqualung – "Strange and Beautiful"  
_ Nate's eyes shot open as the ice retreated from the capsule's window. Shouting incomprehensibly, Nate pounded his fists against the glass. After what seemed like forever, the capsule shuddered and the door began to rise. Nate fell forward and collapsed to the ground, heaving up what little remained in his stomach.

The door of Nora's capsule stood obstinately closed. Nate struggled to his feet and slammed his hand down on the control panel's emergency override button. The door hissed and began to open. Nate glared daggers at the pod door. "Come on, come on, damn it!"  
When the door was level with Nate's waist, he ducked underneath and shoved it the rest of the way up. A split second later, he froze in horror.

Nora lay slumped against the back wall of the pod, her dark hair falling over her face, the bullet wound in her chest an ugly dark red spot against the blue Vault jumpsuit.  
Nate's eyes welled up, and he embraced his wife. "I'm sorry, Nora. I'm so, so sorry."  
Suddenly, Nate's eyes snapped open. Nora's arm had wrapped around Nate's back. Nate turned Nora's head to face him, and recoiled in shock. In spite of her fatal wound, Nora's eyes were bright and fierce, though she gritted her teeth in pain.  
"Nate," she coughed, every word an effort. "Find our son…please."

"I will," Nate promised, holding Nora's hand. "I'll come back for you. I'll save Shaun, and we'll be together again."  
Nora coughed again, taking Nate into her arms. "Thank you, Nate… I love you so…"  
Nate began to sob into Nora's shoulder, as he felt her breathing stop. A second later, Nora's limp hand fell from Nate's grasp, and her wedding ring fell to the floor.

After what felt like an eternity and a split second all at once, Nate gently removed himself from Nora's embrace and bent down to pick up her wedding ring off the ground.  
"I promise," he growled. "I will track down the bastards who did this, and make them pay."  
Nate activated the pod's control panel, and the door began to lower. When it had sealed into place, Nate pressed his hand against the glass to take one last look at his wife. "Goodbye, my love."

A siren sounded, as the Vault's huge door began to begin its opening process. Nate unplugged his recently acquired Pip-Boy from the control console, and stood behind the door's mechanical opener, tightly gripping the ten-millimeter pistol he'd found in a cabinet. After the giant roaches, he couldn't take any chances. Within a minute, the giant, gear-shaped seal had rolled to the side. Nate stepped through the door onto the elevator platform and pressed the button. With a hiss of pneumatics and the groan of tortured metal, the elevator began rising, carrying Nate upwards into the world. A light grew above Nate's head as the platform continued rising. Nate squinted and shielded his eyes, as the light grew brighter, until the world exploded into view. The platform shuddered to a halt, and Nate gazed around in astonishment.

The world Nate had once known was gone. In its place was a view that looked straight out of a nightmare. Everywhere, Nate could see collapsed structures, being reclaimed by nature. The bombs had unleashed their devastating force on everything. In the distance, creatures roamed. The horizon wasn't even visible in the hazy air. Clearly there were survivors of the nuclear war; a human city could be seen faintly in the distance.

Nate shook himself out of his trance, and began to pick his way down the hill, carefully stepping over rusted bits of metal and, disturbingly, human-looking bones. After a moment, Nate reached a dilapidated wooden bridge over a foul-smelling stream. Dimly, Nate recalled the breathless run over that same bridge as he and his family tried to escape the bombs. Soon, a familiar shape of a house came into view.

Nate walked through a gap in between two houses, and stopped short as he saw a familiar mechanical face.  
"As I live and breathe!" Codsworth, Nate's faithful Mr. Handy gasped. "It's really you!"  
"Codsworth?" Nate gaped, stunned. "What happened to the world?"  
The floating robot's three eyes pointed in Nate's direction. "Well, apart from our geraniums still being the envy of Sanctuary Hills, I'm afraid it's all been rather dreadfully dull around here." Codsworth cleared his simulated throat. "Things will be much more exciting with you and Mum here again. Where is your better half, by the by?"

Nate swallowed the lump in his throat as Nora's still face flashed through his mind. "She…she was murdered," he managed to choke out.  
Codsworth had no facial expressions, but if he did, Nate imagined he would look gobsmacked. "Sir, these things you're saying; these terrible things…I believe what you need is a distraction. Yes, a distraction, to cure this dire mood. It's been ages since we've had a family game night. We could play Blast Radius! Or Charades! Shaun does love that game. Is the lad…with you?" the robot trailed off.

Nate ruthlessly crushed down the surge of emotion that shot through him at Codsworth's innocent question, and fixed on an expression of thunder. "Shaun's been kidnapped, and I'm going to find him."  
"An admirable goal, Sir!" Codsworth saluted with one of his three arms. "Shall I whip you up a snack before you go? You are two centuries late for dinner after all; you must be famished!"  
Nate's jaw dropped. "Two hundred…years?" he managed to gasp.  
"Around two hundred and ten, I should think," Codsworth replied, "Give or take a few accounting for the earth's rotation, and a few minor dings to the old chronometer. Now, how about that snack?"  
"Codsworth," Nate said slowly, "Are you alright? You're acting strange."

It was the straw that broke the robotic camel's back. Codsworth made a noise that sounded eerily similar to a human blowing their nose. "Oh sir, it's been just horrible! Two hundred years with no one to talk to; no one to serve! I spent the first _ten_ _years_ trying to keep the floors waxed! But nothing gets out nuclear fallout from vinyl wood; _nothing_!" Codsworth's voice kept increasing in volume. "And don't get me started on the futility of dusting a _collapsed house_! And the car! _The car!_ How do you polish _RUST_?"  
"Codsworth, stay with me, buddy," Nate reached out, trying to calm the hysterical Mr. Handy.

"It's been just horrible," Codsworth repeated miserably. "The bombs came and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for sure you and your family were…well… _dead_!"  
"I'm not dead yet," Nate growled, "but anyone who gets in the way of me finding my son is going to wish _they_ were."  
"Excellent!" Codsworth's whole demeanor changed in an instant. "I would be honored to accompany you, sir!"  
"No," Nate shook his head. "I need you to stay here and use the workshop. I need every single car part you can salvage."

Lee turned away from the robot butler and walked through his own front door. The house looked like it had been through hell and back. Every single window was missing, parts of the walls had holes in them, and most of the furniture was overturned. Nate paid this no mind as he headed straight to the master bedroom.  
Nate lifted the tattered mattress out of the bed frame and deftly opened the safe set into the floor.

Codsworth entered the room, just as Nate lifted a black leather jacket, gloves, and a shotgun in a holster from the floor safe. "Sir," he began, "What are those?"  
"Just some things from my time in the service," Nate replied quietly, slipping the jacket on over his shoulders and strapping the holstered shotgun to his left leg.  
As Codsworth watched curiously, Nate donned the gloves and reached down into the safe again. His hand re-emerged gripping a set of keys.  
"Aren't those the keys to your Corvega, sir?" Codsworth pointed at the ring with a military star charm dangling from it.  
Nate shook his head. "Not exactly. I need you to open Shaun's eighteenth birthday project, Codsworth."

Codsworth twisted a key on the side of the house's garage after he had cleared out the rusted hulk of Nora's old Corvega. Nate crossed his fingers, praying that the house still had power. A shudder under his feet brought a smile to Nate's face. The floor of the garage began to open, revealing a sunken pit in the ground; a second workshop. The workshop and its contents began to rise from the hole in the floor, until the platform stopped with a rumble and a boom.

In the middle of the garage was a beautiful black car. Even with its engine and most of its panels and parts missing, it was clear the car was a gorgeous classic, designed for mind-numbing speed. Codsworth gaped at the vehicle in as close to astonishment as he could express. "Sir, you never told me what was in the workshop!"  
"I was going to build this car with Shaun when he turned eighteen," Nate said sadly. "I'll have to use it to find him."  
"I'll brew some coffee," Codsworth nodded his three eyepieces. "There's a Red Rocket station down the road, if you were looking for any resources, sir."  
"Good plan," Nate nodded. "I'll start there."

 _Author's Notes:  
Welcome to the CommonWaste.  
I had this idea after I re-watched Mad Max: Fury Road, and honestly, I'm surprised more people aren't doing it. The Mad Max and Fallout universes go together like two peas in a pod! Two bullets in a mag! Two cannibal midgets in a fat guy's ribcage!  
I'm following a lot of the main Fallout 4 storyline, with lots and lots of elements of Mad Max thrown in. One of my inspirations was the ArtStation page of Jomar Machado. The guy makes some fucking crazy cars.  
Anyway, let me know if I should continue with this story.  
For those of you that are wondering, I'm still going to work on The Infamous Prom Catastrophe and The Last Firefly, but later._

 _-the Seacopath  
_


	2. Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

**Chapter 2: Familiar Faces**

 _Soundtrack: Death Race Main Theme  
_ Nate tightly gripped his guns as he made his way to the road bridge over Sanctuary Hills' moat-like river. After crossing the bridge, Nate spied the Red Rocket station in the distance. Suddenly, a feral dog burst from a nearby bush and ran straight at Nate, baying viciously. Nate backpedaled and drew his shotgun on the snarling dog, firing in its direction. The dog collapsed and died as the buckshot hit home. Nate nudged the fallen beast with his boot, before a wild yell sounded behind him.

A crazed man dressed in a tattered leather outfit swung a tire iron at Nate's head. Instinctively, Nate brought up the shotgun and fired. The man's head turned into red paste, and his body collapsed with a wet thud. Nate's stomach churned, and he ruthlessly crushed down the urge to vomit, as he knelt down and began rifling through the dead man's pockets. A quick search revealed three shotgun shells, and a handful of Nuka-Cola bottle caps. Nate straightened up and continued towards the Red Rocket.

It was clear the garage had been abandoned, by humans at least. The concrete forecourt was riddled with strange holes, almost like the burrow of some giant rabbit. Nate carefully skirted the holes as he picked his way across the forecourt towards the station's garage door. Suddenly, Nate whirled around as he felt something brush his leg. Nate brought his shotgun up to point at whatever the new threat was, which turned out to be…  
A German shepherd sat on the concrete, looking up at Nate, seemingly unafraid of the shotgun barrel pointed at its face. Nate cocked his head in confusion and the shepherd did the same, brown eyes shining brightly with intelligence.  
"Hey, boy," Nate said, slowly lowering the shotgun. The dog barked once, before a change came over it. The German shepherd bounded away, just as the forecourt began shaking.

The ground shook, and the most disgusting creatures Nate had ever seen burst from the holes in the forecourt. The creatures' hairless bodies glistened with mucus, and the smell coming off them was enough to make Nate gag. Lipless mouths held teeth like those of some gruesome beaver, and the hairless giant rodents were charging at Nate, emitting crazed screeches.

Nate whirled around and raised both guns. The 10-mm pistol cracked and one creature fell to the pavement with a hole between its tiny eyes. The dog charged into the fray, barking loudly. With a growl, the dog sank its teeth into the neck of the nearest mole rat and flung it away like a disgusting pink ragdoll. "Good boy!" Nate growled as he stomped another mole rat into the dirt with his boot.

Suddenly the ground under Nate's feet shook, and a mole rat burst from the earth between Nate's legs, knocking him down. The 10-mm pistol skittered away as the mole rat launched itself on top of Nate, teeth gnashing inches from his face. Nate grabbed the mole rat's front legs and held it back as the revolting rodent reached for him, squealing madly. A second later, the dog crash-tackled the mole rat and ripped its throat out. As the mole rat convulsed and died, silence returned to the station.

Nate knelt down and held out his hand to the German shepherd. The dog tentatively extended its nose and nuzzled Nate's hand. "I think I'll call you Dogmeat," Nate smiled.  
Dogmeat barked happily, his tail wagging. Nate straightened up and headed inside the Red Rocket.  
The inside of the service station smelled musty, as though no one had been there in years. Thankfully, some shelves still held supplies. Nate grabbed a burlap sack and tossed in some engine parts and canned foods. Inside the main workshop space, a power armor station gleamed yellow under the ancient fluorescent lights. Nate ducked through the half-open garage door and whistled for Dogmeat.

Back in Sanctuary hills, Nate slammed down the hood of a red Corvega in frustration. Every car he'd tried so far had stubbornly refused to start. Behind Nate, Codsworth floated over. "Is everything all right, sir?"  
"I saw a city a few miles out," Nate replied. "I'm just trying to find a car that actually works."  
"Why not try Mr. Abernathy's Corvega?" Codsworth suggested. "It's the one car I was able to keep in good condition all these years." Nate turned to face the Mr. Handy. "That's…actually a really good idea. Thanks, Codsworth."  
"Happy to help, sir!" the robot chirped brightly.

Nate pulled up the garage door of the once-grandest house in Sanctuary Hills. The years had not been kind to Mr. Abernathy's villa. The garage roof sagged in, while the rest of the house resembled a pile of matchsticks. However, Nate only cared about the garage's still-pristine contents. Inside the ruined building was a beautiful red Corvega. Nate grinned and hopped in, twisting the key in the ignition. The Corvega's Bad Dawg V6 coughed twice and gradually came to life, and Nate pulled out of the garage. Almost as soon as the Corvega's chrome rear bumper passed over the threshold, the entire building collapsed in on itself. It was almost comical in its suddenness, and barely a brick fell outwards. Nate smirked to himself and drove down the street, stopping in front of his house.

"Are you on your way, sir?" Codsworth asked curiously.  
Nate nodded. "I'll be back soon. If anyone arrives and tries to steal anything, do your worst."  
With that, Nate whistled for Dogmeat. The German shepherd bounded up to the red Corvega and hopped through the window into the passenger seat. Nate pulled on a pair of goggles and hit the gas. The red Corvega tore out of Sanctuary Hills over the bridge, squashing the dead raider's body into pulp as it tore past.

After a half-hour of driving, Nate spied the tops of some tall buildings in the distance. A sign drew closer in the windshield. " _Concord_ ," Nate read, easing off the gas. The Corvega cruised through the streets of Concord. Nate kept his head on a swivel, scanning his surroundings for any sign of life. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire reached Nate's ears, and he slammed on the brakes as the Corvega's radio crackled to life.  
" _Attention anyone in the vicinity of Concord, this is Preston Garvey! I'm holed up in the Museum of Freedom, and I've got a group of settlers inside! Raiders are attacking! Someone, please help us!_ "  
Nate spun the wheel and gunned the Corvega's engine.

A left and right turn brought Nate into sight of the Concord Museum of Freedom. Outside the front door, several men were firing at the building with all manner of weapons. Every so often, a laser beam lanced from a balcony on the upper level, striking the ground with explosive force. Nate pressed down on the gas and pulled up the handbrake. The Corvega's rear end swung out to the right and the car slid sideways, plowing into a group of raiders and sending them flying like ragdolls. Up on the balcony, the laser-wielding man raised a fist in triumph. Nate yanked the Corvega's keys from the ignition and jumped out, brandishing his shotgun.

The raiders soon found themselves on the receiving ends of Nate's shotgun and Dogmeat's teeth. With the new threat, the raiders switched their focus to Nate and Dogmeat. Up above, the man with the laser gun had disappeared. Nate whirled and put a shell into the face of a screaming raider armed with a pool cue. Dogmeat sank his teeth into the leg of another raider. The man howled in pain and aimed down at the dog, before Nate turned his head into red paste with a well-placed shotgun shell.

A crowbar appeared in Nate's vision, and he threw himself sideways to avoid it. The raider holding the crowbar sank into a fighting stance and growled like an animal. Nate snatched up a broken length of wood and held it out in front of him. The raider lunged, swinging the steel bar. Nate dodged to the left and swung the stick, smashing it across the raider's back. The enraged man spun around and charged again, slashing at Nate's face. Nate backpedaled, and his foot slipped on a severed arm. As Nate fell to the ground, the raider leaped at him… and fell on the wooden stick in Nate's hand, the jagged end disappearing into his chest with a sickening _crunch_. The raider spasmed and died, coughing blood all over Nate's leather jacket.

Nate got to his feet, throwing the raider's corpse aside. Up above, the stranger had reappeared on the balcony. "Hey, you!" he shouted. "Get in here! I'd like to shake your hand!"  
Nate locked the Corvega and motioned to Dogmeat to guard the vehicle, before ascending the museum steps.

Inside the Museum of Freedom, the roof gaped open to the sky, and several collapsed sections of floor formed crude ramps to the upper levels of the building. Nate ascended to the top floor, efficiently dispatching all the raiders that had made it into the building. Soon, Nate arrived at a door that resisted his efforts to open it. A second later, someone lifted something heavy on the other side of the door, and it swung open.

Inside the space, five people greeted Nate with varying levels of enthusiasm. An old lady rested on a sofa nodded and smiled in Nate's direction. A man and a woman with striking Asian features scowled at him and said nothing. In the far corner, a man wearing overalls and a slicked-back hairstyle waved energetically. As Nate looked around, a tall man in a long trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat clapped Nate on the shoulder and smiled. "Thanks, friend. We'd have had a hard time without you."  
"Happy to help," Nate grunted.  
The man slung a laser rifle across his back. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I'm Preston Garvey, leader of the Minutemen."

"Nate Howard," Nate replied. "Sole Survivor of Vault 111."  
Preston's eyes widened. "You're a vault-dweller! We don't see too many of them any more! What makes you the Sole Survivor?"  
"Everyone else died, except my son," Nate said sadly. "Have you seen anyone come through here with a baby?"  
"No," Preston shook his head. "But we haven't been here for very long. Maybe we missed them."  
"That's okay," Nate sighed. "It was kind of a long shot anyway."

Suddenly, the building shook. Preston and the others jumped to alert, raising weapons and looking around wildly. Nate peered out of the corner of a window and promptly yanked his head back as a bullet smacked into the frame. "More friends," he frowned. "What weapons do you have here?"  
"We ain't got much in here, but I know of somethin' special," the man in the overalls piped up. "I'm Sturges, by the way."  
"What did you find, Sturges?" Nate asked.  
Sturges cleared his throat. "Only a sweet little goodie that happens to be the very thing we need to drive these raiders off. A full set of T-45 power armor, next to that crashed verti-bird on the roof."

Nate wasted no time, running down to the basement, to a fusion generator in a cage. A quick jimmy with a bobby pin, and the door swung open. Nate reached inside the cage and yanked the fusion core from the generator, which promptly died with a whine. Nate ran back to the upper levels and yanked open the door to the roof, breathing heavily. On the roof, a verti-bird gleamed silver in the late afternoon sun, long since dead. Next to the aircraft, standing perfectly still, a silent sentry, was a rust-colored suit of genuine power armor. Nate recalled a memory of fighting in a great war, wearing his own suit. The memory vanished as Nate shook his head and stepped around behind the suit of armor.

The fusion core locked into place, and the suit started to emit a low hum as it powered up for the first time in years. Nate twisted the handle on the back of the suit, and it opened up like a mechanical Venus flytrap, ready to swallow him whole. Nate grasped the suit's inner handles and pulled himself inside. A split second later, the power armor's back sealed itself with a hiss of compressed air and a whine of servomotors. A heads-up display flickered to life, showing all the suit's vital systems. Nate flexed his fingers and watched as the suit's mechanical hands mimicked his motions. Nate's own hands were safely contained in the suit's armored forearms.

Nate grinned and lifted his left leg. The suit followed his movements, taking its first shaky steps in probably centuries. Nate walked to the edge of the roof and ducked inside the crashed verti-bird. Several guns littered the floor; a few pistols, two assault rifles, and a full-size six-barrel minigun. Nate strapped an assault rifle to his back, tucked two pistols into pockets on his armor, and picked up the minigun. Down below, the leader of the raiders looked up at the glint of metal on the roof. " _Fire at the roof!_ " he shouted. " _We got company!_ "  
A bullet ricocheted off the T-45's armored helmet, snapping Nate to attention. With a grunt, he drew himself up to his full height, and leaped off the roof into the air.

The T-45's metal boots hit the ground with a thunderous noise, the heavy armored suit cracking the concrete. Nate straightened up and spun up the minigun, aiming down the sights at the dozens of fleeing raiders. The powerful gun roared to life, spraying out a veritable wall of hot lead. Everything in front of the minigun was utterly destroyed. A nearby car exploded as whatever fuel left in its tank ignited. Bullets chewed through masonry, collapsing the wall of a building. Bandits in the gun's way simply disappeared into splashes of red.  
Nate released the trigger, and the minigun barrels spun to a stop, glowing cherry red with heat. Nate grinned smugly, until the concrete shook under his feet.

Down the street, a section of concrete crumbled, and an enormous creature forced its way up through the destroyed street. Nate's jaw dropped. The monstrous animal stood at least ten feet tall at the shoulder. Scaly armor covered the creature from head to foot. Each of the creature's hands were equipped with a set of vicious-looking claws. Glowing red eyes blazed with bloodlust in a face framed by demonic horns. Nate took a cautious step back, and his power armor's foot crushed a dead raider's skull with a sickening _crunch_. The reptilian monster's head whipped around, its crimson gaze fixed on Nate.  
Two things happened in quick succession; the huge reptile _roared_ , and Preston burst through the Museum balcony door and shouted down at Nate. " _WHAT ARE YOU DOING STANDING THERE? THAT'S A GODDAMN DEATHCLAW! SHOOT IT ALREADY!_

Nate let fly with the minigun as the deathclaw charged, roaring like the end of the world. In spite of the stream of bullets Nate's minigun spewed, the deathclaw closed the distance in three long strides, smashing into Nate's power armor. Nate flew backwards, crashing down onto his back with a pained grunt. The T-45's head-up display flashed red, showing the damage sustained. Nate rolled to his feet, barely avoiding the swipe of the deathclaw's razor-sharp claws. The minigun lay on the ground out of reach. Nate raised both armored fists, staring down the enraged deathclaw. The vicious reptile slowly paced in a wide circle, following Nate's movements, clicking its claws together threateningly. Nate stomped the ground and the deathclaw snarled. Up on the balcony, Preston sent a bolt of laser between the monster's eyes, but this just seemed to make it madder. Nate took the offensive, charging forward. The T-45's servos worked powerfully, sending the seven-foot tall slab of metal rocketing towards the deathclaw. Nate ducked under a wide claw-swipe, before jumping upward, fist raised.

The deathclaw's jaw broke as Nate's armored fist smashed into the underside of its face. The huge reptile recoiled with an agonized howl, its lower jaw hanging slack at a disgusting, twisted angle. Nate faced down the beast, beckoning with a finger. Perhaps sensing that its time had come, the deathclaw charged forward, intending to take Nate down with it. Inside his helmet, Nate gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly. Just as the deathclaw came within striking distance, Nate sidestepped the gleaming claws, before delivering a crushing hammer-fist to the back of the deathclaw's neck. The deathclaw collapsed to the ground, and Nate wasted no time, straddling the reptile's back. Nate reached forward and grabbed the pair of twisted horns protruding from the scaly head, and heaved. With a sickening _ripping_ , _crunching, splattering_ noise, the scaled hide split, and Nate _tore_ the deathclaw's head clean off. Breathing hard, Nate clambered off the deathclaw's twitching corpse and retrieved his minigun.

Soon, the Museum of Freedom's front door opened, revealing Preston and the other settlers.  
"Hot damn," Sturges whistled, gazing around at the destruction. "You really know how to work that thing."  
"I promise that sounded better in your head," the Asian woman rolled her eyes.  
Preston stepped forward. "That was one of the bravest, craziest, and most brutal things I've ever seen."  
Nate grimaced. "It was me or that thing; I chose me."  
"That's often how it goes these days," Preston nodded. "Since you saved our lives, I guess introductions are in order. These two are the Longs; Jun and Marcy," he gestured to the two young Asians. Next, Preston pointed to the old lady. "This is Mama Murphy."  
Mama Murphy stared at Nate for a long moment before speaking. "He's alive."

Nate stopped in shock. "Are you talking about Shaun?"  
"So that's his name," Mama Murphy nodded. "I've seen him." She pointed to her own head.  
Preston scowled. "I told you, Mama Murphy, no more chems. They do more damage than you think."  
"And if I hadn't used the Sight back in Lexington, we'd all be dead right now," Mama Murphy snapped back.  
"So, I'm guessing you're looking for a place to settle?" Nate cleared his throat.

Preston nodded. "That's right. We used to have a small camp down south, but raiders attacked it. I used to have fifty people with me. Now there's just the six of us."  
"I know a place," Nate replied. "Sanctuary Hills; about a half-hour's ride from here. And you all seem like honest people."  
"If it's a home, we'll be glad to share it with you," Preston extended his hand.

 _Author's Notes:  
So now we've met Preston and the Sanctuary Settlers. I'm going to try and stick to Fallout's story as much as I can, although I'm going to be including lots of ideas and material from the Mad Max universe too. Leave a review if you like how the story's going so far!  
_-the Seacopath


	3. Chapter 3: The Rebuild

**Chapter 3: The Rebuild**

 _Author's Notes:  
I think it's fair to say every author likes reviews, but when said reviews contain nothing but complaints, that's a little annoying.  
Time to address some comments._

 _I wrote Nora as being still alive after getting shot for several reasons.  
-I am operating on the assumption that when a person goes into the cryo chambers in Vault 111, everything stops, including the stages of dying and death.  
-Based on the amount of time it takes a human to die from a shot to the chest, Nora could have still been alive for several minutes, maybe even longer than an hour.  
-Look it up. It happens.  
-I wanted to give Nate some closure. I don't think that's too unreasonable._

 _THIS IS NOT A WALKTHROUGH OF FALLOUT 4!_

 _There will be original story events in boatloads the size of the U.S.S. Constitution, so untwist your collective pants. Before I get into the nitty-gritty, there needs to be some exposition.  
There will be some of the same characters and events that take place in official canon, but there will be more than enough original shit to satisfy everyone.  
Now, let's get back into it._

 _Soundtrack: Tiki Taane – "King of the Dubs"  
_ Nate's red Corvega tore down the street, engine growling proudly. Mama Murphy sat in the passenger seat next to Nate, while Preston and the others clung onto a scavenged trailer that bounced along behind the Corvega. The T-45 power armor lay in the trailer too. Dogmeat had run off to Sanctuary alone.  
Nate changed gear and the Bad Dawg V6 growled appreciatively. Mama Murphy nodded, impressed. "My husband used to drive a Corvega like this one back in Quincy," she sighed.  
"Is he still around?" Nate asked carefully.

Mama Murphy shook her head. "He's been dead for years."  
"Sorry for your loss," Nate replied quickly.  
"Don't be," Mama Murphy said with a wicked grin. "He used to hit me, so I killed the bastard myself."  
Nate was forced to swerve around the rusted corpse of another Corvega. As the others shouted indignantly from the trailer, Nate stared at Mama Murphy in shock. Mama started humming as she stared out the window. Nate shook his head and returned his attention to the road.

Soon, the Corvega cruised over the bridge to Sanctuary Hills. In the trailer, Preston winced as he heard the bridge creak and groan under the Corvega's weight. "Add that to the fix-it list," he muttered to himself.  
A minute later, Nate stopped the Corvega outside his house, and everyone dismounted the trailer. Nate and Preston helped Mama Murphy out of her seat.  
"All right," Nate began. "You're welcome to whatever houses you like, except mine. There's a digistruct workshop in the yellow house, so you can make whatever you like, as long as you have the materials."

"All right," Preston stepped forward. "Me and Mama Murphy will take the house with the workshop. The rest of you, get to scavenging. Scrap all the collapsed houses, and put all the materials you find in the workshop. We need defenses, and that's going to take resources."  
The settlers each grabbed a constructor tool from the red workshop table and split off. Mama Murphy followed Preston to an old armchair in the yellow house, sinking down into the soft leather with a satisfied groan.

Meanwhile, Nate found himself face to face with the Longs.  
"We haven't been properly introduced," the man began. "I'm Jun, and my sourpuss of a wife is Marcy."  
"Hi," Marcy grunted, arms crossed.  
"What can I do for you?" Nate asked.  
Jun gestured around. "Me and Marcy were pretty good at farming back home. If you want, we can start a garden and find a couple animals; get everyone here eating right."  
"Nice idea," Nate nodded. A second later, Preston tapped him on the shoulder.

"We'll get set up here," Preston said. "In the meantime, there's a group of raiders in an abandoned Corvega factory. They attacked us before we reached Concord; killed most of us and took everything they could get their filthy hands on."  
"And let me guess," Nate asked sarcastically, "You want me to go ask them nicely if they'll give everything back?"  
Preston grunted. "Not quite the way I'd put it, but yes. Besides, if we capture the factory and put some trusted folks in there, we could start building cars."  
"I can do that," Nate nodded. "I'll be back when I'm done."  
Nate walked over to the digistruct workbench and checked the levels of supplies stored inside. With a satisfied grin, Nate selected his minigun, short laser musket, and double-barrel shotgun, storing the weapons in his Pip-Boy's data banks.

The red Corvega came to life and Nate shut the door as he settled into the driver's seat. Dogmeat panted happily in the shotgun seat. On the trailer, Nate's new power armor knelt on one leg, its mechanical hands gripping the trailer's edge. Nate scanned the road ahead and hit the gas. The Corvega started off down the street, quickly vanishing into the distance.  
Preston turned back to the others. "You heard the man. Let's get rebuilding."

 _Song: Disturbed – "Inside the Fire"  
_ The highway stretched on as far as Nate could see. The Corvega's engine rumbled, carrying the red car farther away from home. A short while later, Nate passed through Lexington. Taking in the scale of the destruction caused by his first battle with the raiders, Nate whistled softly. Dogmeat barked in agreement. Nate changed gear down and sped up, approaching the edge of town when a roar caught his ear. In the rearview mirror, at least a dozen crudely modified Corvegas emerged from alleyways and from around corners. Nate pulled out his shotgun and turned up the radio, bracing himself.

The first of the fleet of Corvegas drew closer on Nate's left side, its engine making a deafening racket. The body panels shone chrome, and a wicked-looking ram bar was mounted on the front. On top, an armored raider blasted a flamethrower at Nate's Corvega. Nate waited until the Corvega was almost upon him, and slammed on the brakes. Nate's Corvega slowed dramatically, and he stuck his arm out the driver side window, holding the shotgun. As the raider's Corvega sped past, Nate fired both barrels through its window. A split second later, an explosion of red splattered the Corvega's windshield as the raider's head disintegrated. The raider car peeled off to the left, before smashing into a building.

Nate changed gear down and stomped on the gas. As the Corvega surged forward, Dogmeat howled, as if letting loose a war cry. Behind Nate, the rest of the raiders closed in, shouting and firing their weapons. Nate swerved to the left, knocking another raider car off the highway into the ditch. A second later, the rusty Corvega smashed into a sewer pipe and crumpled like a soda can. Nate hissed as bullets ricocheted off the red Corvega's door panel, dangerously close to his head.

Suddenly, the Corvega bounced. A raider had thrown himself onto Nate's hood and was clinging to the red Corvega. The raider screamed at Nate, hacking at the hood with a crude axe. Nate slammed on the brakes and hit the gas in quick succession. The raider was thrown off the hood, and promptly went under the Corvega's wheels. Nate grimaced at the grisly death, but a bullet whizzing past his head cleared his thoughts instantly.

The Corvega shook as three harpoons impaled the body panels, and the car began to slow. Behind Nate, two other vehicles were connected to the red Corvega by heavy steel cables on their harpoons. Nate swore and grabbed a length of rope, tying the steering wheel into place, before jamming a crowbar onto the gas pedal. The Corvega's engine roared and Nate unbuckled himself from the seat, climbing out the shattered back window. Nate clung to the trunk lid with one hand and pressed his shotgun's barrels against one harpoon's cable.

The shotgun roared and one harpoon's cable disintegrated, metal flying everywhere. The Corvega lurched and powered ahead, the crowbar still wedged on the gas. Nate hauled himself across to another harpoon on the trailer, and fired. One harpoon vehicle shuddered to a stop, losing the pulling power of the red Corvega, as the harpoon shattered. The other car, a large tow truck covered in spikes, fired another harpoon, which whistled menacingly over Nate's head. On the trailer, Nate hurriedly jammed fresh shells into his shotgun and pressed it against the harpoon's hook.

The cable snapped back as the harpoon's hook came undone, smashing through the tow truck's windshield in a flash of glass and a splash of red. The tow truck veered to the left and flipped over, rolling to a crunching stop against a lamppost. Freed from the harpoons, Nate's red Corvega surged ahead, towards the large factory building looming in the distance. Nate leaped onto the Corvega's trunk lid and hauled himself through the back window into the driver's seat. Dogmeat barked in greeting, and Nate pulled the crowbar away from the accelerator pedal, taking control of the car back from Fate before roaring through a gap just barely wide enough to fit the trailer. Behind Nate, another raider vehicle flipped end over end as it plowed into the concrete barrier Nate had just squeezed through. The vehicles behind it shuddered to a halt at the crude new roadblock. Nate breathed out in relief as the Corvega carried on.

Half an hour later, Nate pulled up to a ramshackle building beside the Greater Boston Corvega Assembly Plant, and cut the engine of the red Corvega. Dogmeat hopped out the passenger window and began sniffing around the building. Nate popped the hood and yanked out the Corvega's distributor cap, rendering it immobile. After he shut the hood again, Nate climbed into the trailer and stepped into his T-45 power armor. The suit powered up with an electric hum and a hiss of hydraulics as Nate stood up to his full height. Dogmeat ran to Nate's side, and the two crept closer to the forbidding factory, and the unknown danger inside.

 _Author's Notes:  
I think that answers the question of when this story gets into the Mad Max universe. I hope I wrote a good action sequence. If so, let me know by writing a review in that little box down there. I'll have another chapter ready soon.  
-the Seacopath_


	4. Chapter 4: The Factory

**Chapter 4: The Factory**

 _Song: Machine Gun Kelly – "Wake + Bake"  
_ Nate pushed his way through the door of the Corvega factory and immediately gagged at the stench inside. The entire factory was filled with a strong-smelling haze of smoke. Nate recognized the smell as Corvega exhaust, mixed with marijuana.  
Through the smoke, music drifted into Nate's ears. Nate shed his power armor and ejected the fusion core, rendering the suit immobile. Holding his breath, Nate popped open an emergency cabinet on the wall and grabbed a gas mask, fitting it over his face with a hiss of air.

Nate raised his 10mm pistol and started sneaking through the smoke. A second later, Nate spied a hazy silhouette leaning against a conveyor belt. Nate crept closer and holstered the pistol, drawing a combat knife. Before the raider knew what was happening, Nate's blade had drawn a gruesome red smile across his throat. The raider collapsed with a gurgle, and Nate quickly stole a handful of caps and a silenced pistol, before moving on.

Nate stalked between rows of partially assembled Corvegas, scanning the factory's equipment with the digistruct tool he'd taken from Sanctuary. As he rounded a corner, Nate froze. The rows of machinery stopped, giving way to an open space in the middle of the factory floor. Raiders knelt in a circle around what looked to be an altar. Rows upon rows of steering wheels hung on the altar's rack like so many trophies. A metal skull blazed with fire on top of the assembly. Nate looked past the crude place of worship, into the air above. Engines hung from chains dangling down from the ceiling. Countless Little Warrior Inline-4 blocks swung in the air, next to a small number of Bad Dawg V6 engines. Close to the center, Nate spied two Holy Prophet Boxer engines, and a Spin Psycho 4-Rotor.

Nate paid this no mind, as his eyes became glued to the centerpiece. A genuine supercharged Big Chief V8 gleamed silver and black in the factory's low light, hanging from four chains. Nate holstered the 10-mm pistol and drew a set of throwing knives. The first blade hissed through the air and buried itself in the back of one raider's skull. Nate grinned as the raider collapsed soundlessly to the floor, flicking another knife.  
The silence of the factory was broken by a shrill scream as Nate's second throwing knife found a home in a raider's arm. The rest of the zealots surged to their feet and raised crude metal weapons. Nate swore explosively and drew his shotgun.

The group of raiders charged at Nate, wildly swinging their makeshift weapons. Nate rolled to the side and straightened up, drawing a bead on the raiders with his shotgun. The black firearm roared and one raider was blasted off his feet in a spray of red. Nate switched his aim and fired again, sending another raider backwards to crash into three others in a glorious display of gruesome bowling. A bullet whistled past Nate's head. Nate cracked open the shotgun and ducked a raider's crazed swipe of a scrap sword. An alarm started wailing as Nate jammed two fresh shells into his shotgun and stood straight up. A scream drew Nate's attention, and he whirled around just as another raider ran straight into him. Nate pulled the shotgun's trigger, and the raider's chest exploded. In his mad rush, the painted warrior had run into the business end of the Duplet shotgun. Nate turned and broke into a sprint as bullets impacted on the machinery all around him. Raiders followed, cackling wildly as Nate disappeared into the smoke.

 _Song: Eminem – "Till I Collapse"_  
Breathing hard, Nate crashed into the factory's front door and looked around, urgently fishing in his pockets. A wicked smirk crossed Nate's face as his fingers curled around a metal cylinder. A second later, the first of the raiders emerged through the smog and stopped short. Nate raised one hand in a middle-finger salute to the raiders as he hauled himself inside his power armor. The suit powered up and the display flickered to life in Nate's vision. In front of him, the crazed charge quickly turned to a terrified retreat. Nate drew his shotgun and rolled his shoulders inside the armor, before charging forward.

Nate waded through bullets and laser blasts, safe inside the T-45's metal cocoon. Checking the suit's heads-up display, Nate smiled. Power gauges and damage readers all glowed green, and the suit was working smoothly. The Duplet shogun blasted again and again, shells finding homes in raider guts and grey matter.  
Inside the suit, Nate began to laugh. The T-45's helmet distorted Nate's voice into a sinister mechanical rasp.  
Suddenly, a rocket exploded on Nate's shoulder armor. Inside the suit, the head-up display blared red, showing the damage. Nate dove for cover behind a cargo lifter, just as another rocket exploded where he'd been standing.

Nate crouched behind the cargo lifter as bullets pinged off the metal sides and rockets exploded around the dead machine. Smiling grimly, Nate drew his minigun and revved up the barrels. When the sound of bullets lulled slightly, Nate spun out from behind the cargo lifter and pulled the trigger. The powerful minigun whirred to life, spewing out an unbelievable torrent of bullets in the raiders' direction. A catwalk collapsed as bullets ate through its supporting leg, sending six raiders screaming to the factory floor below.

Just as the minigun stopped firing, a blow to the back of Nate's shoulder sent him staggering. Nate whirled to see a raider holding a large hammer and shouting a wild yell. The raider swung again and Nate blocked the blow with the minigun's ammo container. Nate tossed the minigun away and raised his armored fists. The raider swung his hammer again, batting Nate's right fist away before charging forward, aiming for Nate's head. Nate took a step back and the hammer whistled harmlessly past his chest plating before burying itself in the concrete floor. Nate stepped forward and let loose with a brutal uppercut. Shockingly, when Nate's fist made contact, the raider's head exploded, showering Nate in disgusting red gore.

Nate staggered back, shaking his head in disgust, when a rocket impacted on the power armor's chest plate. Nate spun and crashed to the floor facedown. Bullets sparked off the rear panels of the power armor, and the instruments on Nate's display crept downwards, closer to the red. Nate hauled himself to his feet, ignoring his protesting muscles, and drew his trusty shotgun. With the pull of the trigger, one raider flew backwards in a spray of red. Nate charged at the remaining attackers, firing his shotgun, unmindful of the bullets that ricocheted off his armor. With a final bark of the Duplet, the last raider fell, and silence returned to the factory. Nate slowly turned his head, scanning the surroundings before lowering the Duplet and kneeling down in front of the many raider corpses on the floor.

After every single raider's body had been picked clean, Nate pushed his way through the assembly plant's front door into the open air. Overhead, the sun sank in the sky, and birds could be heard chirping in the evening air. Nate walked over to where Dogmeat guarded the red Corvega and stepped onto the trailer. Nate groaned with exhaustion as he shed his battered and damaged power armor. While Nate refitted the Corvega's distributor cap, Dogmeat barked as if concerned for Nate.  
"Relax, boy," Nate smiled tiredly, patting the German shepherd's head. "It's time to go home."  
The Corvega's engine rumbled to life and Nate relaxed into the driver's seat. Dogmeat hopped into the shotgun seat and Nate hit the gas, leaving the carnage at the assembly plant behind.

 _An hour later…_

The red Corvega rolled over Sanctuary's bridge, the rotting wood creaking alarmingly under the wheels. Nate pulled up outside his house and shut off the Corvega's engine, before dragging himself out of the vehicle.  
"Sweet mother of god," Preston gasped, running up to Nate. "What the hell happened to you? There was only supposed to be a handful of raiders at the plant!"  
"They clearly had some backup," Nate groaned, limping over to the digistruct workshop and dumping all the junk he'd collected into the workshop's hopper.  
Preston crossed his arms. "You need to rest, Nate. Now." The Minuteman pointed to Nate's house. Nate made to protest, but Preston held up one hand. "No arguments, General. You secured us a great victory, but you need time to heal."

"Why did you call me General?" Nate asked, tilting his head. Preston smiled. "You impressed me beyond what I could have imagined. You took the Corvega plant, and you helped all of us find a home here. I want to make you the new General of the Minutemen."  
"No," Nate shook his head. "That title belongs to you. You got everyone this far; I just helped at the very end of your journey."  
Preston smirked. "The thing about being the last of the Minutemen is, no one can override me, _General_."  
Nate sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can be the General. But only until someone better comes along."  
Preston smirked. "Oh, I think we'll be waiting on that for a while."


	5. Chapter 5: The Big Chief

**Chapter 5: Big Chief**

"Holy hell," Preston whistled, looking around the damaged Corvega Assembly Plant. "You really did a number on this place."  
"Sorry," Nate replied. "I was more concerned with the raiders shooting at me than I was about the décor."  
"Smartass Vault-Dweller," Sturges smirked, walking past Preston and Nate, carrying a stack of boxes. Nate raised a joking middle finger in the air, aimed at Sturges' back. Ahead of Sturges, the rest of the Sanctuary settlers could be seen exploring the assembly plant.

"Still," Preston cleared his throat. "This will be an excellent home base, once we get some light in here, and get everything running again."  
"What about Sanctuary?" Nate asked curiously. Preston shrugged. "We can keep it as an outpost, but there's not as much room there, not to mention this place can be stuffed to the gills with defenses."  
"Fair enough," Nate replied. "That means I'll need to move my workshop and my belongings here."  
"Go," Preston nodded. "I'll handle the setup here."

 _Song: Blues Saraceno – "Dootcher Self"  
_ The red Corvega's Bad Dawg V6 rumbled to life, and Nate put the car in gear. A second later, Dogmeat could be heard barking. The German shepherd raced out of a nearby door and hopped into the Corvega as Nate accelerated towards the plant's large vehicle door. Nate patted Dogmeat's head and guided the Corvega around the burned-out hulks of big rigs cluttered around the plant's driveway. On the highway, Nate planted his foot to the floor and Dogmeat howled to the sky as the Corvega surged ahead. Within half an hour, the island Sanctuary rested on could be seen. Nate slowed down and raised a pair of binoculars to his face, looking across the water. A lone feral dog could be seen wandering down Sanctuary's main road. Nate put the binoculars away and drove cautiously over the bridge.

The feral dog scampered off, hearing Nate's Corvega approaching. Nate pulled to a stop and shut off the engine, outside his house.  
Looking around, Nate sighed in nostalgia. The settlers had taken everything of value with them already, after Preston had made the decision to move everyone to the Assembly plant, only leaving Nate's belongings behind.

As if on cue, Codsworth floated up to Nate. "Sir, what's going on? Why has everyone left?"  
Nate shut the red Corvega's passenger door and faced the Mr. Handy. "I cleared out a car production plant south of here. Everyone's moved down there. It's more secure, and we can defend it easily. Not to mention we can start making cars there."  
"That sounds most excellent, sir!" Codsworth replied brightly. "Shall I make my way there?"  
Nate nodded, and Codsworth swiveled 180 degrees, before taking off in a cloud of thruster exhaust.

Nate opened the digistruct workshop and quickly crafted a pair of steamer trunks, putting them on the red Corvega's trailer. Dogmeat watched from the shotgun seat as Nate entered his old house. Nate shut the front door behind him and took a long look around his old living room. The furniture was long past dilapidated, and the paint was peeling off the walls. Nate left everything in the living room and the kitchen alone, walking down the hallway to the left. The bathroom and the laundry room Nate left untouched; making a beeline for the room he'd once shared with Nora. With a flick of the digistruct tool, the broken bed frame disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving the room clear and open. Nate crossed to his old writing desk and removed the holotape Nora had left for him, along with the pair of wedding rings inside the top drawer. Kneeling down, Nate spun the combination to open his floor safe, removing his old military gear and service weapons.

Shaun's old room looked exactly as it had when Nate had last stepped foot in it. The blue crib sat at one wall, and the dresser next to it held all manner of baby toys and clothes. Nate stored the furniture in the digistruct workshop, before leaving the room for the last time. In the garage, Nate deconstructed the row of worktables filled with tools, storing them in the workshop. Next, Nate turned to the black car that was originally meant to be for Shaun. Gritting his teeth, Nate pushed on the rear bumper. The black car rolled forward slowly, clearing the edge of the garage and emerging into the open for the first time since Nate had brought it home. A few minutes later, and the black car had been mounted onto the red Corvega's trailer, along with everything Nate had chosen to take with him.

Dogmeat barked anxiously as Nate slid into the Corvega's driver seat.  
"I know, boy," Nate sighed. "I hope we're not too heavy as well." With that, Nate started the Corvega and put it in gear. The car's frame creaked in protest as Nate pressed the accelerator pedal, but thankfully, the trailer began to move. Nate sped up, rounding the tree at one end of Sanctuary's island, before passing the sign one last time. Luckily, and rather poetically, barely three seconds after Nate had crossed the bridge out of Sanctuary, the whole wooden structure collapsed, falling into the river below with an almighty _splash_.  
Dogmeat and Nate paused as the bridge fell. Nate silently thanked whoever was listening that he hadn't been on the bridge. For his part, Dogmeat fixed Nate with a very pointed look, as if to say, _well, wasn't that lucky?_  
Nate returned his attention to the road and hit the gas, leaving Sanctuary behind.

Back at the Corvega Assembly plant, Nate finished moving the last piece of furniture into place, in the three rooms he'd claimed as his own on the factory's ground floor. Preston had taken up residence in the old foreman's offices, the Longs shared a pair of rooms on one floor and Mama Murphy had claimed the factory's employee lounge. No one could figure out where Sturges had set up shop, other than a hammock he'd strung up in the factory's main floor. After locking his room door behind him, Nate turned to the workshop bay where he'd put Shaun's birthday project car. Sturges walked over as Nate finished placing the tool chests around the black body shell. "Anythin' I can help with, General?" the mechanic asked with a cocky smirk.  
Nate turned to Sturges and pointed overhead to the hanging army of engine blocks. "You can help me get that."  
Sturges followed Nate's pointed finger to the blocky form of the Big Chief V8, and a wide grin spread across his face. "Can do."

A few minutes later, Preston walked onto the main factory floor, following the sound of raised voices, and stopped dead. Nate, Sturges and Jun were dangling from a length of chain, suspended over twenty feet off the ground. Underneath the three men, Dogmeat scampered around a pile of fallen crates and ladders, anxiously barking.  
"What the hell is going on here?" Preston shouted. Everyone froze.  
Preston crossed his arms and glared, until Sturges smirked. "Nothin, Preston. We're just hangin' out."  
Preston blocked his ears as the farmer and the vault-dweller started shouting obscenities at the mechanic for the utterly awful joke.  
A second later, someone tapped Preston on the shoulder. The Minuteman whirled to find himself face to face with a Mr. Handy.

"Good afternoon, sir," the robot greeted Preston. "I was told by Sir to arrive at this charming locale. Is he here?"  
"You mean Nate?" Preston asked cautiously, fingering the gun at his hip.  
Codsworth suddenly started in surprise. "Why, he's up there! What in the world are you doing, sir?"  
"Hey Codsworth," Nate called down from where he hung. "A little help here?"  
Codsworth rolled all three of his eyepieces. "Oh, by the maker. Humans are always getting themselves into trouble." With that, Codsworth floated up to where the three men hung from the chain. A short time later, the irked Mr. Handy had lifted Nate and the others down to the ground.

On the ground, Nate gritted his teeth in frustration as he looked up at the Big Chief V8, suspended above his head. "I guess this'll just have to wait," he grumbled.  
"General," Preston cleared his throat.  
Nate turned to the Minuteman. "What's going on?"  
Preston adjusted his long coat. "We're going to be a little while setting up around here. In the meantime, maybe take some trips out to the settlements around here, and try to persuade some of the people to join the Minutemen."  
Nate nodded. "Makes sense. Not much of a people's army with only two people. I also need to find Shaun."  
Preston scratched his chin. "Well, if you're looking for a good lead, I recommend taking a trip to Diamond City. It's not civilization in the strictest sense, but it's a place to start, at least."  
"Good plan," Nate nodded. "I'll be back in a few days. In the meantime, can you see about getting that engine block off the damn ceiling?"  
Preston saluted. "Consider it done."

 _Two hours later…_

The red Corvega rumbled to life. Nate whistled for Dogmeat, and the German shepherd hopped into the passenger seat. Nate walked around the Corvega, examining his handiwork. The red Corvega's wheels had been replaced with off-road rims and run-flat tires. Barbed wire lined the body to repel boarders, and the front bumper had been replaced with a wicked-looking, sharp metal plow. Sturges whistled, impressed. "Anyone you hit better hope they die, otherwise that's gonna mess up their whole day."  
"That's the idea," Nate smiled grimly, sliding into the driver's seat and hitting the gas.

 _Song: Blues Saraceno – "Moonshine and Gasoline"_  
The red Corvega cruised down the assembly plant's long driveway, towards the main highway. Beside Nate, Dogmeat sniffed the air, eyes bright. For his part, Nate simply scanned the road on all sides, checking his mirrors. Ahead, a fallen tree blocked the road. Nate smirked, shifted down a gear and hit the gas.  
The tree split in half with a deafening _crack_ as the red Corvega's new plow smashed through it. In the driver's seat, Nate jerked forward at the sudden jolt, grinning triumphantly as woodchips plinked off the windshield. Suddenly, a shot ricocheted off the Corvega's hood. Nate swore and swiveled his head, checking the landscape. In the distance, a flash of light betrayed a sniper's laser sights. Nate hissed angrily and hit the gas, disappearing around a bend in the road. Mere seconds later, Nate's ears picked up the buzzing of engines.

Behind Nate, three cars and two motorcycles bounced onto the highway out of the trees. These Corvegas looked ready to fall apart at a moment's notice, covered in rust with exposed mechanisms everywhere. Curiously, these cars were covered in hundreds of crude spikes, so much so that the drivers weren't even visible. The motorcycles were a different story. A naked rider straddled each bike, their gurning faces the utter picture of insanity. Worst of all, the front of each bike was covered in sticks of explosives. The suicidal motorcycle riders wove between the spiked Corvegas, rapidly gaining on Nate, screaming incoherently.

Nate swore and shifted down, hitting the accelerator. The Corvega leapt forward, but the bikers kept gaining. Dogmeat whimpered, hunkering down in the passenger seat. Nate swerved out of the way of a wrecked eighteen-wheeler with barely a meter to spare on the side. One of the bikers wasn't so lucky. The suicidal rider plowed into the truck, and his bike's deadly payload detonated. The rig disappeared in a colossal explosion, sending shrapnel whistling across the red Corvega. A second later, the other rider emerged from the cloud of smoke, followed by the three spiked Corvegas. The rider screamed at Nate, enraged at the early death of his partner, while the Corvegas hung back a short distance. Nate pulled a grenade from his belt and yanked the pin out, dropping the yellow sphere out the window.

Three seconds later, the grenade exploded spectacularly, right underneath the wheels of one of the spiked Corvegas. The raider car was tossed aloft like a child's toy, on fire. Nate watched in grim satisfaction as the raider Corvega came crashing down on its spiked brethren, sending all three to a skidding, sparking stop. Suddenly, a wild yell sounded beside Nate. The last suicide biker tossed a round object through Nate's window and dropped back. Nate looked down in terror at the grenade in the passenger foot well, its fuse hissing. Without pause, Dogmeat lunged forward and grabbed the grenade in his mouth. Nate's jaw dropped as the German shepherd dropped the lit grenade out the passenger window. "Good b-" Nate began, when the grenade exploded.

The red Corvega tilted wildly, swerving to the right as the grenade detonated barely three yards behind it. To make matters worse, the suicide biker's front wheel dove into the pothole left by the explosion, and the explosive battering ram on the front of the bike hit the ground and exploded with devastating force.  
A second explosion turned Nate's Corvega's spin into an uncontrolled slide. Nate wrestled with the wheel, trying to keep control, when the Corvega's metal plow smashed through a metal barrier, sending the car barreling off the highway, down a steep hill. The last thing Nate saw was an enormous oak tree charging towards him.

 _Author's Notes:  
Well, I hope that was a good chapter. I had the idea of Nate acknowledging that he has to leave Sanctuary behind, because it was too strongly connected to his past. Not to mention, a car assembly plant seems to be a good place to set up shop. If you like the way the story is going so far, leave me a review.  
Till next time,  
-the Seacopath_


	6. Chapter 6: Ice Cold Killer

**Chapter 6: Ice Cold Killer**

 _Song: Helios – "Emancipation"  
_ Nate's eyes forced themselves open to a world of soreness, and to the sight of a ceiling fan slowly spinning above him. Nate lifted his arms and struggled into a sitting position to take stock of his surroundings. He was in a bed, in a strange room filled with sunlight. An alarm clock on the bedside table read 11:45 AM.  
"Ah, good; you're awake," someone said. Nate turned his head to see a young man standing in the doorway with a bucket of water and a towel. "I was just coming to check on you."  
"Where am I?" Nate rasped, his throat parched.  
"You're in Greygarden," the man replied. "You had a nasty crash after that scrap with the Brewer's bandits. I'm Artie, by the way."  
Nate raised an eyebrow. "Who's the Brewer?"

It was Artie's turn to look confused. "You've never heard of Tower Tom the Brewer? Him and his gang of raiders have been using the Beantown Brewery as a base for years. They attack anyone stupid enough to use the roads around here."  
Nate swung his feet over the edge of the bed and faced the young man. "Where's my Corvega? And my dog?"  
Artie shifted nervously. "I dragged you out of the Corvega, but more raiders showed up; they took it. I didn't see a dog anywhere."  
Nate growled. "Where is this brewery?"

 _The next evening…_

Nate scanned his surroundings, holding a recently acquired sniper rifle to his shoulder. Aside from the buzzing of a single bloodbug, nothing stirred. Nate squinted through the scope and pulled the trigger. Nearby, the hovering bloodbug exploded in a spray of red as the high-velocity bullet tore through it. As the echo of the gunshot faded, Nate perked his ears up, listening for any sounds of life. Suddenly, Nate's stomach growled loudly. Shouldering the rifle, Nate sat against a large rock and opened his Pip-Boy. The wrist-mounted portable computer's display listed all the types of food Nate had scavenged over the last day's journey on foot. Flicking through, Nate selected a can of Cram, and a Nuka-Cola. The Pip-Boy beeped, and the food appeared on the ground in front of Nate in a flash of glowing blue digistruct particles.

Nate ripped open the Cram and dug in ravenously, pausing to take sips of Nuka-Cola. As Nate polished off the can of Cram, he grimaced at the sour, ozone-like taste of radiation in the meat. When he'd finished, Nate hurled the empty Nuka-Cola bottle behind him. A second later, Nate heard the sound of glass shattering, along with a curse and a dull _thud_. Nate whirled and drew his shotgun. Behind him, a raider lay unconscious and groaning on the rock, his head sporting a large red gash. Half of the broken Nuka-Cola bottle glinted in the sun a few feet away. In spite of himself, Nate began to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, before approaching the downed raider with an evil grin.

 _Some time later_ …

Mikey the Beantown Raider slowly came to with a pounding head. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to find that his body wouldn't move. Further inspection revealed that Mikey's clothes and armor were all gone, and his limbs were tied behind his back with heavy rope. Dimly, Mikey recalled sneaking up on the lone traveller in the black leather coat, and he recalled a Nuka-Cola bottle flying at his face. Mikey looked around, preparing to call for help, when a glint of glass caught his eye. A foot away from his face sat a broken Nuka-Cola bottle, with a piece of paper stuck to it. The note simply read: _No one will ever believe you about this. Don't sneak up on people. With love, the Sole Survivor.  
_ Nearby, a Brahmin raised one head at the sound of enraged shouting and cursing, but the animal soon grew bored and returned to grazing with its other head.

Meanwhile, Nate had crossed over the ancient bridge leading to South Boston. Several well-placed sniper rifle shots had taken care of the raiders standing guard on the bridge, and Nate had pocketed all their loot as he snuck past. In the distance, a building had emerged from the haze, covered in pipes and vents. Additionally, the air stunk with alcohol fumes and the smell of rot. Nate donned a gas mask and pulled up the hood of the armor he had stolen from the raider earlier. Suddenly, a light rounded the corner, followed by the sound of engines. Nate dove behind a wrecked Corvega, and a second later, a truck roared past dragging a trailer. Nate stole a quick glance at the Beantown logo crudely sprayed on the trailer, before the rig passed by, closely followed by a rearguard of armed Corvegas. When the last engine had faded away, Nate drew his sniper rifle and snuck closer to the forbidding shape of the brewery.

Surprisingly, Nate encountered little resistance on his way to the brewery. Only a small patrol of four raiders stood between Nate and the brewery's outer fence. Once he'd dispatched the patrol, Nate cut his way through the chain-link fence and entered the yard.  
Raiders passed by Nate as he made his way closer to the brewery, herding people with collars around their necks. Dressed in his stolen armor, Nate blended in with the rest of the raider guards leading the slaves to the brewery's door. Suddenly, a raider at the front of the line threw out his arm, stopping the march ahead. A split second later, a pair of Corvegas screamed past kicking up dust, so fast that Nate barely had time to blink. The lead raider resumed walking, followed by the rest of the slaves.

Inside the brewery, Nate silently thanked his gas mask. The air inside the brewery was a dark brown haze, so thick that the roof wasn't even visible. The smell must have been absolutely revolting without a mask. Everywhere Nate could see, slaves coughed and gagged on the foul air as they tended to the bottling line. Disturbingly, more than a few slaves were chained to the line by crude collars of jagged metal, their necks covered in scars. Nate turned away in disgust, looking for his Corvega. Slightly away from the bottling line, even more slaves worked on vehicles: three big-rigs, several Corvegas and dozens of motorcycles. In the corner, Nate spied his red Corvega being attended to by a team of slaves. Already, Nate could see that the suspension had been raised, and a pair of turbochargers had been attached to the Bad Dawg V6's exhaust manifolds.

Someone grabbed Nate's arm and he whirled, expecting a fight. Another raider stepped back, raising his hands. "Jesus, Mikey! Twitchy, much? It's me; Swill!"  
"What is it?" Nate asked, lowering his voice to a raspy growl.  
Swill shrugged. "Boss wants to see all the Pale Guards."  
Nate nodded slowly, playing along. "Why?"  
"Beats me, but come on; we don't want to be late," the other raider nodded, leading Nate up a staircase. "That red one's a nice car, ain't it?"  
Nate nodded. "Yeah. Where'd it come from?"  
"We ran that beauty down on the Pilsner Path," Swill grinned. "The driver lost control and crashed, but when we got there, they were gone. Real shame; the bastard took out three of our cars with one damn grenade. I heard the boss wanted to offer them a spot as a runner." Swill finished his sentence with a grimace. "Lucky fucker."  
Nate nodded, trying to absorb everything Swill said, as well as memorizing the route through the brewery. A minute later, Nate and Swill arrived at a door marked _employees only_.

Swill pushed open the door, and Nate stepped into a large office. A desk stood by one wall, and a raider leaned against it. The raider wore a shabby three-piece suit under a set of armor, and a bowler hat sat low on his head. Around him stood a group of about ten raiders dressed similarly to Nate.  
"Good, you're here, Swill," the well-dressed raider addressed Swill. "Good to see you, Mikey," he continued, glancing at Nate. Nate quickly nodded, saying nothing.  
"Right," the raider began. "I assume you all know why we're here?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "Yesterday, we ran down a road warrior on Pilsner Path. The driver disappeared, but we got his car. However, ladies and gentlemen, the boss says this still counts as a failure. The goddamn road warrior managed to blow three of _our own goddamn runners_ to hell! So the boss needs three replacements!"

"Excellent," Swill nudged Nate. "We get to race the Beast."  
Nate shifted nervously as the lieutenant continued. "Each of you maggots get downstairs and pick a Corvega. You have three practice laps, and then we release the Beast. If you survive three laps against the Beast, you're in; you'll be a runner. If not, well, we'll get to that later."  
At the lieutenant's words, the raiders turned on their heels and left the office. Nate followed Swill as he made a mad dash for the door.

Nate sprinted through the brewery towards the line of Corvegas, where his red vehicle sat waiting. Nate jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door, crushing another raider's fingers as they made a grab for Nate. Swill and the other raiders had already jumped into Corvegas of their own, and engines started rumbling. Nate twisted the red Corvega's starter key, and the engine came to life with a growl of cylinders and the whine of turbochargers.

 _Song: Letlive – "Younger"  
_ Nate put his foot to the floor as the fleet of Corvegas charged around him. The red Corvega leapt forward, and a split second later, twin streams of flame blasted from the upturned exhaust pipes on the hood. Nate blinked in surprise before changing gear and following the racing vehicles through the brewery. Up ahead, a spike-covered Corvega _splattered_ through a slave unfortunate enough to still be in the racers' way. A second later, the spiky car jerked to the right and spun to a stop, caught in the dead slave's chains. Nate swerved around the stalled driver and hit the gas.

The line of Corvegas zoomed through the brewery's goods delivery door, off the loading dock, onto a crude packed dirt track. Nate swore as the red Corvega hit the earth with a jolt. Thankfully, the upgraded suspension absorbed most of the shock. Nate zeroed in on the leader of the line, a silver Corvega adorned with razor-sharp shards of metal. A blue tracked vehicle armed with rocket pods closely pursued the leader, and it was chased in turn by a violently pink muscle car with an absolutely enormous blower, higher than its roof. Several other spiked cars jockeyed for positions behind the three leaders.

A turn rapidly approached, and the lead Corvega smoothly rounded the corner, just clipping the apex. The blue tracked car slowed down to make it around the corner, and the pink Corvega promptly rammed into the blue car's rear bumper. Nate swerved out of the way as the blue car prepared to take the outside line. Suddenly, the blue car launched a volley of rockets from its roof-mounted pods. A few missiles impacted in the dirt, but most tore through the pink hotrod. Nate hauled on the red Corvega's handbrake and spun the wheel. As the red Corvega drifted smoothly around the corner and passed the blue tracked car, the pink Corvega spectacularly exploded, the driver inside now surely dead.

A split second later, a spiky Corvega rammed into Nate's left side. Nate frantically ducked as the other driver blasted a pistol through the red Corvega's window. Nate spun the wheel to the right, but the two Corvegas stayed stuck together by barbed metal spikes. Up ahead, the track turned ninety degrees to the left. Nate dodged another pistol shot and hit the gas, dragging the spiked car along with him. As the raider inside the other Corvega prepared to fire again, Nate looked him in the eye and pointed ahead. The raider returned his attention to the track, two seconds before his Corvega smashed into the apex of the corner. With a horrendous noise of tortured metal, Nate's Corvega's door was torn off. Nate smoothly regained control of his car and surged ahead, looking for a way to escape the track.

 _Song: Letlive – "27 Club"_  
Up ahead, the silver Corvega was tangling with the stragglers from the last lap. As Nate watched, the silver car powered forward, tearing through other Corvegas' body panels and tires with the blades all over its own body. Two Corvegas spun out and rolled to a crunching stop after being torn to shreds. Nate swerved out of the way and continued to chase the silver Corvega.  
Suddenly, a gate swung open as a terrifying white Corvega smashed through it. The newcomer's car was styled like a horrendously mutated monster. The front end of the Corvega sported a disgustingly realistic mouth full of sharp teeth, and the white body panels were painted to look like skin covered in open wounds and sores. Nate swore explosively as the newcomer tore past, inches ahead of the red Corvega's nose. Through the tinted windshield, Nate caught a glimpse of a white helmet, black eyes and _too many teeth_. This could only be the Beast.

The surviving Corvegas tore around the next left-hander, towards the starting line, to begin the second-to-last lap. Nate changed gear down and put his foot to the floor. The red Corvega's engine howled and the car shot forward, past the cheering crowd of raiders and slaves that had formed during the last four laps.  
Nate spun the wheel and hauled up on the handbrake, smoothly drifting around the first corner of the track. Another beat-up Corvega tried to copy Nate's move, but the back end swung out too far and the Corvega slid to a stop. A split second later, the mutated white Corvega appeared around the corner, headed right for the stalled racer. Nate's jaw dropped. The Beast was clearly a racer of unparalleled skill, to have completed an entire lap already.

The white Corvega _smashed_ into the immobile car with a horrendous noise of tearing, crunching metal, and an ungodly _roar_. Nate's eyes widened as he looked in his rear-view mirror to see the white Corvega's mouth crunch down on the unfortunate car. Terrified, Nate pushed the red Corvega to its limits. Behind him, the mutant car shook off the remains of the other Corvega and powered after Nate. Just then, Nate spied a collapsed road sign on one side of the track. The metal sheets curved upwards, forming a crude ramp. Nate gritted his teeth and hit the gas. The red Corvega surged ahead, heading straight for the sign, chased by the Beast. Nate looked in the rear-view mirror and gasped. The Beast's Corvega's jaws were snapping angrily, and the car was almost upon him!

The assembled crowds screamed as Nate's Corvega thundered up the crude ramp and cleared the edge, flying over their heads. Behind Nate, the Beast chased him up the ramp and flew off the end with an animalistic roar.  
The next four seconds felt like an eternity to Nate. The only sound to be heard was the scream of engines and the rushing of wind. Small objects scattered around the Corvega floated into the air as gravity took a brief vacation. Nate gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white, and braced himself, watching the ground approach.

The red Corvega's wheels hit the dirt outside the brewery's fence with an impact that rattled Nate's brain inside his skull. The wheel bucked and jerked in his hands as the car fought to spin out, but Nate maintained control with an angry snarl. Bare yards behind Nate, the Beast crashed to earth, but the white Corvega's wheel hit a large hole in the road. The Beast's Corvega spun out and slid to a shuddering stop. As the red Corvega shot off down the highway, the Beast howled to the sky, furious at losing its prey. A second later, the Beast's Corvega spun its wheels and took off in search of fresh kills.

 _Author's Notes:  
I wonder what will happen now that the Beast is loose?  
I should have a new chapter ready soon. In the meantime, leave a review.  
-the Seacopath_


	7. Chapter 7: Return and Refit

**Chapter 7: Return and Refit**

Nate didn't take his foot off the gas until he could no longer see Beantown Brewery in the rearview mirror. The compass on the Corvega's dashboard pointed steadily northeast, showing Nate his path back to the Corvega Assembly Plant. Suddenly, loud barking caught Nate's attention, and he looked out the passenger-side window. Dogmeat sprinted along, keeping pace with Nate, his coat shining a sleek glossy brown in the sun. Nate slammed on the brakes and the red Corvega slid to a stop. Dogmeat padded over to the door and hopped up on his hind legs, placing his paws on the windowsill. The German shepherd cocked his head, as if to say, " _Can I still come with you_?"  
"Waiting for an invitation, boy?" Nate laughed, patting the seat beside him. "Come on."  
Dogmeat barked happily and hopped through the window, curling up on the passenger seat beside Nate. The Vault-Dweller reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears before putting the Corvega in gear.

A few hours later, Nate shifted down as the red Corvega approached the Assembly Plant. Nate whistled as he looked around. Preston and the others had clearly been busy. The Assembly Plant was surrounded by a double-height barbed wire fence, turrets stood everywhere, and spotlights roved around, leaving no scrap of ground in darkness. Surprisingly, ultraviolet lights hung from the top of the fence, bathing the ground in purple light. As Nate watched, a glowing one attempted to charge the fence, but as soon as the irradiated beast crossed into the field of purple light, it recoiled with a howl, spilling glowing green blood everywhere as its rotting skin blistered and burned. Nate grimaced and turned up the path towards the plant's gate.

Suddenly, a pair of spotlights blazed to life, blinding Nate. A voice called out of the intense white light. " _Shut your engine off and get out of the car! We have a Fat Man pointed right at you!_ "  
Nate shut off the red Corvega's engine and pulled off his stolen gas mask, climbing out of the Corvega. " _Sturges_!" he called. " _It's me, Nate!_ "  
A second later, the spotlights shut off, and the factory gate opened. Sturges stepped through the gate, carrying a large shotgun. "Vault-Dweller?" he asked in amazement. "Is it really you?"  
"No," Nate smirked. "It's me, the _other_ two-hundred-year-old Vault-Dweller with a German shepherd and a red Corvega."

Sturges lowered the shotgun and clasped Nate's hand in a firm shake. "We heard you was dead, Vault-Dweller," he said in a hushed tone. "One of them trader folks came from Beantown a day back; wouldn't stop goin' on about a red Corvega the raiders blew off the road."  
"That was me," Nate grimaced. "Wound up on the wrong side of some suicide bikers and pursuit vehicles. Not to mention that freak racecar driver the Beantown raiders have locked up in their…factory…" Nate trailed off.  
"What driver?" Sturges asked worriedly.  
Nate shuddered. "I don't know exactly what it was, but it sure as hell wasn't human. It drove a white Corvega with teeth, and I saw it _eat_ another driver. It chased me out of the brewery and got loose."  
Sturges looked into the distance, horror on his face. "Well," he cleared his throat after a minute. "It's a good thing we finished the defenses. Let's get you inside."

 _A few minutes later…_

"General!" Preston shot up from his office desk in shock. "How are you still alive?"  
"Sheer bloody-minded determination," Nate grinned grimly, shaking the Minuteman's hand.  
"I assume you couldn't get to Diamond City because of that business with Beantown?" Preston raised an eyebrow. Nate shook his head. "No; and now the raiders know what Corvega I drive. I can't go out the factory gates again without a different Corvega. I really hope you had more success here than I did out there."

Preston led Nate out of the office and gestured to the inside of the assembly plant. In contrast to when Nate had first arrived, the factory blazed with light, and the squalor had been cleaned up. The only remnant of the raiders that had once called the factory home was the altar hung with steering wheels. Preston nodded in the altar's direction. "Figured we should leave that there, as a reminder to any visitors that get any funny ideas."  
"Good idea," Nate nodded. A second later, Sturges ran up and tapped Nate on the shoulder. "Good news, boss," he grinned. "We got the Big Chief ready for you."  
Nate whirled to face the mechanic. "Show me."

 _Song: Death Race Main Theme  
_ Sturges led Nate to the workshop he'd reserved for himself on the factory's ground floor. Nate squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light inside. Sturges spread his arms wide, gesturing to a mess of car parts cluttering the workshop. Nate's black project Corvega took pride of place, resting on a lifter. The Big Chief V8 sat next to the Corvega on a stack of wood. Nate cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat. "Sturges, I'm going to need the red Corvega brought inside. It's time for me to build the Hunter."

 _Several hours later…_

Nate's once-proud red Corvega lay in pieces on the factory floor. Nate had spent several hours meticulously stripping every usable part from the Corvega, and transferring them to the black Hunter. By now, the Hunter was equipped with a new gearbox, racing suspension, off-road wheels, and driver's controls. Nate had stripped out the rear seats in favor of an armored fuel tank, and was in the process of welding together a roll cage. As Nate shut off the acetylene torch, Sturges tapped him on the shoulder. "How's it goin', boss?" the mechanic asked with a grin.  
"Good," Nate nodded. "This roll cage should hold up nicely in case someone tries to T-bone me again. I've also been meaning to ask you something."

Sturges watched Nate sit down on an upended parts crate and waited for Nate to ask his question. "How come cars still work?" Nate asked curiously.  
"I knew this might'a come up eventually," Sturges scratched his chin. "And I guess the answer to ninety-nine questions out of a hundred, is Vault-Tec. They were all about savin' humanity's best and brightest in them rat-holes." Sturges pulled up a rolling stool and sat down heavily, the tools in his belt jingling. "Bout fifty years ago, a Vault opened down around Florida and Texas. Scientist comes outta there, and he's got the recipe for gas. Within a few years, everyone got a copy of the recipe, and cars got workin' again."  
"Isn't that a good thing?" Nate asked. "People can travel faster and farther than they can on foot, and cars can be mobile emergency shelters."

Sturges shrugged. "There's ups and downs like everything in life," he sighed wisely. "A family gets a truck for their farm, and they can do ten times the work using it. But a warlord gets a bunch'a raider clans united and uses their cars for an army; well, let's just say what happened to you in Beantown could'a been a lot worse. Down south, raiders and warlords rule the highways. Unless you got an army backin' you up, goin' south of Georgia is suicide."  
"Shaun could be anywhere," Nate snapped, "And if it takes an army to find him, so be it. Pass me that clip cutter."  
Sturges fell silent as Nate attacked the red Corvega, ripping out a wiring loom as ferociously as if it owed him money.

 _Three days later…_

Preston stood up from his desk at the sound of a loud crash, followed by yelling echoing off the assembly plant's walls. The Minuteman burst from the door of his office, ready to deliver his _what-the-hell-is-going-on-here_ speech, but he stopped dead. In the middle of the factory floor, one of the giant cargo cranes had fallen over, its joints long since rusted past the point of no return. The crane's giant arm lay on the floor, crushing a Corvega body underneath. Several of the factory's residents swarmed around the crane, shouting loudly. Preston approached the site of the accident and stopped with a gasp. A pair of booted feet protruded from under the fallen crane, unmoving.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps intruded on the scene. Nate burst from the door of his workshop, dressed in his T-45 power armor. The Vault-Dweller ran towards the downed crane and knelt down in front of it. With a whine of servomotors and an explosive hiss of hydraulics, Nate began to lift the crane off the ground. A pained electronic yell filled the air, and Preston realized with a start that it was coming from the power armor's helmet. The Minuteman ran over to the crane and braced himself, pulling upwards with all his strength.

As the crane shifted up, Sturges and a few other settlers pulled on the feet of the person trapped under the arm. Preston waited until Sturges confirmed it was safe to drop the crane before releasing the metal arm. Beside Preston, Nate dropped the crane and it crashed to the floor with a loud _boom_.  
Sturges suddenly cursed. "Somebody go get Jun right now."  
Preston and Nate looked down and cursed in unison. Lying on the ground, her torso a bloody mess, was Marcy Long.

" _NO!_ " Jun screamed, running into the factory ahead of another settler. Jun ran to his wife and embraced her, sobbing brokenly. Preston went to lay his hand on Jun's shoulder, but the other man whipped around, glaring daggers at everyone. " _Who let this happen_?" he roared, clutching Marcy's body to him. " _I'll kill them!_ "  
Preston spread his arms wide, clearing a space around Jun, who sank back down to hold his wife.  
"Jun," one of the settlers called. "There was nothing we could do, man! I'm sorry!"  
" _Sorry?_ " Jun raged at the settler, surging to his feet. " _Sorry won't bring my goddamn wife back, you piece of shit!_ " With that, Jun charged at the man who'd spoken, swinging his fist.

Jun's wild charge came to a halt when Nate leaped forward and caught Jun in his power armor's steel embrace. Jun raged and screamed as he fought Nate's grip, but he eventually went limp in the Vault-Dweller's arms. "Why?" he sobbed. "Why did it have to be her?"  
"I know how you feel, Jun," Nate patted his comrade's back and pulled him into a hug. "My wife died too; I couldn't save her."  
"Did you get over it?" Jun asked through his tears. "Does this pain ever go away?"  
"No, but you learn to live with it," Nate replied. "You come to realize that unless you put a gun to her head and pull the trigger yourself, it's not your fault. I had to remember this about a lot of good men I served with, too."

"What do I do?" Jun asked Nate miserably. "Where am I supposed to go now? I can't stay where she died."  
Nate slowly released his hold on Jun and removed his power armor helmet. "I'm going to Diamond City when I finish building my new Corvega. You're welcome to ride with me till we get there. After that, you can choose whatever you want."  
Jun slowly nodded. "Just let me bury my wife."  
Nate patted Jun on the shoulder. "Sure thing."

 _One Day Later…_

Nate shut the hood of the Hunter, covering the newly installed Supercharged Big Chief V8, just as he heard the door to his workshop open. Jun stepped through the door, his clothes covered in mud and dirt.  
"How did it go?" Nate asked somberly.  
Jun wiped his face with a muddy hand. "She's buried under the tree in Sanctuary Hills. I might come back there later."  
"Are you ready to go?" Nate asked, gesturing to the Hunter.  
Jun nodded. "I'll grab my things."

As Jun left the workshop, Codsworth floated through the door, followed by Sturges. The Mr. Handy gasped at the sight of the beautiful black Corvega. "I must say, sir, this is most impressive."  
"I agree with the robot," Sturges whistled. "That looks like somethin' straight outta one of them action flicks."  
"It's an old classic," Nate replied. "The first edition of this car came out almost three hundred years ago, by my reckoning."  
"Man," Sturges sighed longingly. "What I wouldn't give to see those days for myself."  
Nate ruthlessly crushed down the memory of his old life that surfaced in his mind, settling for simply nodding to Sturges.  
In fairness, the Hunter was a beautiful example of a Corvega. The car had a long hood and sloping back, and sat close to the ground on off-road tires and deep rims. At the rear, twin exhausts yawned widely, and the interior was finished in black leather.

"Let's fire this puppy up," Sturges said excitedly, rubbing his hands together. Nate lowered himself into the Hunter's driver seat and inserted the key in the ignition. The engine turned over a few times, before coming to life with a strong bass rumble and filling the workshop with noise.  
Nate sat back against the Hunter's headrest, listening to the Big Chief's thudding V8 heartbeat. A minute later, Sturges stuck his head through the window. "God damn," he grinned. "You did real good, Vault-Dweller."  
Jun pushed his way through the workshop door, before dropping a bag through the Hunter's passenger window. Ahead of the car, Sturges and Codsworth shifted a tool cabinet, an engine crane and a workbench out of the way. Nate popped the door for Jun, and the man practically fell into the seat.  
"Are you ready?" Nate asked Jun. The other man simply stared forward with a dead-eyed expression. "Just drive," he muttered.

Nate put the Hunter in gear and rested his hand on the wheel. The powerful V8 growled and the black Corvega smoothly pulled out of the workshop and rolled through the Assembly Plant. The settlers in the plant all turned their heads to watch Nate's new creation make its way through the factory towards the delivery door. Dogmeat bounded up to the Hunter, preparing to jump through a window, but Nate shook his head no. Dogmeat padded to a stop and tilted his head with a whine as the Hunter left the Assembly Plant and drove out of sight.

 _Author's Notes:  
Since the review left by the guest called Why, I've addressed everything they pointed out. There is still petrol because people from the Vaults kept the knowledge of how to refine oil. Cars are mostly not nuclear-powered anymore, because the technology has become too rare and expensive and dangerous to use. There are some exceptions, but now is not the time to discuss them.  
Nate's new Corvega is a 2033 Chevrolet Hunter. Chevrolet released the Hunter in 2033 as homage to the classic 1967 Impala; the original body design was used for the car, and it was modernized with state-of-the-art internal workings.  
I'll have the next chapter out sometime after I finish moving house.  
Till then, you know what to do.  
-the Seacopath_


	8. Chapter 8: The Jewel of the Commonwealth

**Chapter 8: The Jewel of the Commonwealth**

The highway stretched into the distance. The Hunter powered ahead, the Big Chief V8 growling proudly. Nate and Jun sat in silence, watching the miles flash by. Earlier on the road, the Hunter had passed through a small ruined town, but now the Corvega was surrounded on three sides by empty fields. In the distance, Boston could be seen in the radioactive heat haze, shimmering like some fading dream.  
Nate eventually cleared his throat and turned to Jun. "I'm sorry about Marcy."  
Jun sighed heavily. "She was my world. We had a son together; did you know that?"  
" _Had_ a son?" Nate asked cautiously.

Jun reached into his pocket and pulled out an ancient-looking leather wallet. Flipping the wallet open, Jun withdrew a faded picture of himself, Marcy, and a boy who could only have been their son. The boy had his father's messy black hair, and his mother's warm brown eyes. In the picture, the family was smiling at the camera. Jun smiled sadly. "We found a working camera with Polaroid papers in it while we were travelling. Preston took this picture for us."  
"I'm sorry," Nate replied. "I suppose I know how you feel."  
Jun nodded. "I know you lost your son too. Is that why you're going to Diamond City?"  
"Honestly, I don't even know if Diamond City is the right place to start," Nate sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Preston seems to think so, and besides, any lead is better than no lead."  
Jun nodded and returned his gaze to the scenery.

A second later, Jun sat upright and cursed. "Vault-Dweller, we got company!" Nate looked to the right and swore. Something shiny was cutting a path through the tall grass beside the highway, keeping pace with the Hunter.  
"Go!" Jun stammered. "Hit the gas! Lose this guy!"  
"No," Nate countered. "If I speed up, it'll let our friend there know he's been spotted. And we don't know if he's got backup. Let's just let him follow us for now. Let me know if he does anything weird." As he spoke, Nate lifted his double-barrel shotgun and checked the shells.  
Up ahead, the highway approached a massive structure. Roads and ramps twisted and wove around each other in an intricate concrete Gordian knot.

Jun gasped. "We can't go in there! That's the Noose!"  
Nate turned to Jun and raised a questioning eyebrow. Jun took a breath and calmed down, before starting to explain. "A raider boss controls the Noose. We can't see it, but he's got a whole fortress in the middle of that thing. The raiders have turned that maze of highways into a death trap. They're the only ones who know every inch of it!"  
"Well they're not me," Nate replied. "I used to drive this highway every day." Looking out the left window, Nate's stomach dropped. A second silver pursuer had joined the one on the Hunter's right side. "Jun," Nate began. "How good of a shot are you?"  
Jun shook his head. "Not that great."  
"Perfect," Nate scowled. "Looks like we're in for a race."

 _Song: Metallica – "I Disappear"  
_ As soon as a sign marked with a noose flashed past, Nate hit the gas and the Hunter surged forward. A short distance behind, half a dozen pursuing vehicles burst from the long grass, engines howling as they tried to catch up with the V8-powered Hunter. Nate passed a shotgun to Jun and grabbed a pistol, just as one of the raider cars drew level with the Hunter. Nate blasted the pistol at the other car, and on the sixth shot, a burst of red splattered the silver Corvega's windshield. The car swerved left and flipped, rolling end over end to a crunching stop.

A second later, the Hunter hit the first ramp leading into the Noose. Jun looked out the back window to see the raiders all backing off the chase. "Uh, Vault-Dweller? Why are the raiders giving up?"  
Nate looked back just in time to see one raider's car roll over a manhole festooned with a cable. Putting two and two together, Nate slammed the Hunter into fourth gear and stomped on the gas. The powerful car blasted forward, a split second before a slab of metal shot up from the concrete, cutting off the highway where the Hunter had been just before. Behind the barrier, one of the raider cars shot a flare high into the sky. Lights began to blaze to life all around the highway, and the air was soon filled with the sound of engines.

Nate pulled the handbrake and smoothly drifted around a long right-hander, the Hunter's engine growling powerfully. Behind, several raider cars had made it onto the long stretch of highway, and they were rapidly gaining on the Hunter. Ignoring Jun's panicked babbling, Nate yanked the pin from a grenade, tossing it out the Hunter's window. The black sphere rolled to a stop on the highway, just as a raider Corvega shot over top of it. The grenade went off with a blinding flash and a massive explosion, taking a chunk of the highway with it. The car on top of the grenade was thrown skyward, and several vehicles that followed it fell through the new hole in the road, their drivers screaming all the way down.

Nate straightened out of the drift as a junction approached. Nate chose the left fork, just as a section of roadway flipped down ahead of the Hunter. Jun gasped as the black Corvega dove down a hidden ramp. Nate swore and scanned the road ahead, looking for threats. Suddenly, Nate forced Jun's head down as a line of bullets sparked off the Hunter's body panels. The path they drove on was lined with machine gun turrets. Nate shifted down a gear and hit the gas. The Hunter leapt forward, Nate desperately trying to outrun the turrets' vicious guns. Bullets flew everywhere, turning the air into a deadly lead cocktail.

Behind the Hunter, more raider cars had made it onto the stretch of highway, their drivers adding to the hailstorm of gunfire. Nate grabbed his last grenade from the cupholder, pulled the pin and dropped it out the window. As the grenade rolled under a raider's Corvega, the explosion flipped the vehicle end over end, until the car itself erupted into a glowing fireball. Jun swore in terror as a ramp approached. Nate gritted his teeth, shifted down and hit the gas. The Hunter rocketed up the ramp and flew into the air. Beside Nate, Jun clenched his eyes shut and gripped the edges of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white.

In midair, time seemed to slow down. Nate focused on the rapidly approaching stretch of concrete leading out of the maze of highways. A spent shell casing floated in front of Nate's face as gravity took a coffee break. Three seconds later, the Hunter's wheels slammed down onto the road. Nate fought with the wheel as the black Corvega tried to spin out, but he managed to keep it straight. Behind, a raider Corvega smashed nose-first into the ground with a horrible crunching screech of tortured metal, blocking the path. A second later, several more raider cars crashed into the stricken Corvega. Nate smirked in the rearview as the Hunter slipped the Noose.

Several hours later, the Hunter rolled to a stop outside the huge metal gates of the stadium that housed the biggest settlement in the Commonwealth; Diamond City. Even after 200 years, the walls of Fenway Park stood tall, blocking out the sun. Nate turned to Jun and passed him a box of 10mm bullets and a stimpak. "Hopefully this helps."

Jun shrugged. "Keep the stimpak. Thanks for the ride." With that, Jun opened the passenger door and slid out of the car, heading for one of the patrolling security guards. Nate watched Jun walk away for a minute, before turning to the massive gate and rolling forward.

For some reason, the settlement's huge gate was lowered, blocking access to the city. Outside the gate, a woman in a red leather coat stood next to a motorcycle, yelling furiously into an intercom.

"What the hell do you mean you can't open the gate?" the woman exclaimed. "Me and my bike are right out in the open here, for crying out loud!"

" _I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper,_ " said a weary voice on the other end of the intercom. " _I'm just doing my job_."

"Really!" the woman snapped. "Just doing your job? Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? Oh look, it's the _scary_ reporter! Fucking _BOO!_ "

" _I'm sorry,_ " the voice repeated. " _Mayor McDonough's real steamed, Piper; saying that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy._ "

The woman; Piper, flipped the middle finger at the intercom box. " _Argh_ , you open this gate _right now_ , Danny Sullivan! I live here! You can't just lock me out!"

Piper angrily slumped onto her bike's saddle. Nate cut the Hunter's engine and got out of the car, stretching his stiff legs. Piper perked up when she noticed the car, and strolled over. "You," she half-whispered. "You want in to Diamond City, right?"

"Yeah," Nate nodded. "I want in."

Piper smirked. "Good; now play along." She turned back to the intercom and raised her voice. "Wow, that's a lot of supplies you got there, Mister! Looks like enough to keep the general store stocked for at least a month!"

Nate rolled his eyes as Piper kept harassing Sullivan on the intercom's other end.

Piper gave a huge exaggerated yawn. "Oh well; I guess we'd better head somewhere else. Good luck explaining to crazy Myrna how you lost out on all this loot, Danny!"

Danny Sullivan came back on the line, sounding annoyed. " _Jeez, alright. No need to make it personal, Piper. Gimme a minute._ "

With that, the giant metal gate groaned, jolted and began slowly rising. Piper leaped onto her bike and started the engine, which rumbled to life with the sound of a high-displacement V-Twin. "You better get in there quick, before ol' Danny catches onto the bluff," Piper called to Nate.

Nate slid into the Hunter and started the engine, rolling under the rising gate behind Piper, into an open area where a smartly-dressed man waited, very red in the face.

"Piper! Who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut! You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have that printer and your bike scrapped for parts!"

Piper faced down the angry man. "Is that a statement, McDonough?" she challenged. " _Tyrant mayor shuts down the press!_ "

Piper turned to Nate. "Why don't we ask the newcomer what he thinks? You support the news? Cause the mayor's threatening to throw free speech in the trash!"

Nate got out of the Hunter and crossed his arms. "Always believed in freedom of the press."

The mayor immediately switched his focus. "I didn't mean to bring you into this argument, sir, no. You look like Diamond City material. Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe, happy; a fine place to come, spend your money, repair your car, settle down."

Nate shared a glance with Piper. "This hasn't been the friendliest welcome."

Piper smirked. "He's got you there, McDonough. Guess not everyone gets won over by that shark smile of yours."

McDonough scowled at Piper before returning his attention to Nate. "Was there anything in particular you came to our city for?"

Nate sighed. "I'm looking for my son, Shaun. He's been kidnapped; he's less than a year old."

Piper scoffed in disgust. "Well, don't bother asking this windbag. I know someone who can actually help."

McDonough rounded on the reporter. "Piper, I've heard enough out of you. From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice!"

"Yeah, keep talking McDonough, that's all you're good for." Piper flipped her middle finger over her shoulder as she walked back to her bike.

Nate climbed back into the Hunter and called over to Piper. "You mentioned you know someone who can help me?"

Piper started her bike's engine. "I sure did. Let's get parked up first, and then we can take care of business." Piper put her bike in gear and motioned over her shoulder for Nate to follow. Nate started the Hunter's engine and the gate lobby echoed with the Big Chief's throaty growl. Security officers nearby watched the black car roll through the lobby into a large tunnel.

Following Piper, Nate craned his head to look through the windshield in astonishment. Piper had led Nate into an enormous auto shop, built into the hollow area underneath the gigantic concrete stands of the stadium. Rows of car lifts stretched along the curved concrete wall, holding vehicles of all kinds, from sleek race cars, to rugged off-roaders. Nate gaped at the ceiling, where a colossal semi truck and trailer setup hung in midair, being attended to by a swarm of mechanics dangling from chains and bungee cords.

"Impressive, huh?" Piper called over from a parking bay. "This here's my spot; you can use my lift if you like."

Nate pulled into the car lift and shut the Hunter's engine off. Piper leaned on the driver's door, smirking when Nate pulled out the ignition relay. "You can relax, Blue," she grinned. "This is pretty much the one place in the Commonwealth where you can leave a car alone without worrying about it getting stolen."

"Blue?" Nate raised an eyebrow. Piper stepped back and let Nate climb out of the black car. "You may not be wearing the blue suit, but that Pip-Boy and the 'fish-out-of-water' look you got going on; it's obvious you're a Vault-Dweller. Speaking of which, follow me to my office; I think I have an idea for a new story."

Piper led Nate back through the workshop to a door marked "Player Access." Squinting, Nate let his eyes adjust to the light, and gasped.

Diamond City spread out before Nate, glowing against the darkening sky. Row after row of houses lined the stands, interspersed with bright neon signs advertising everything from chems to car parts. Where the pitcher's mound used to be, there stood a circular restaurant called Power Noodles. People milled around everywhere, trading, eating, and socializing. Nate gaped in amazement.

Piper waved Nate forward. "I was right about the 'fish-out-of-water' look. If you stared any more, your eyes would've popped out on stalks."

Nate rolled his eyes and followed Piper into a small building advertised as 'Publick Occurrences'.

Inside, the newspaper office was quite cozy. An antique printing press took up one corner of the room. Rows of shelves containing metal letter stamps covered an entire wall, and the whole room smelled like ink and old books. Piper gestured for Nate to take a seat at a small desk and pulled out a notepad.

Just then, the office door swung open and a young girl burst through it. "Piper!" the girl exclaimed. "Someone stole your workbay!"

Piper held up her hands. "Chill, Nat," she replied. "I'm letting our new friend here borrow it for a while."

Nat's attention switched to the Vault-Dweller sitting at Piper's desk. "Oh, I didn't see you there; hi Mister."

Nate nodded, and Piper cleared her throat. "Let's get down to business; I know you're from a vault. How would you describe your time on the inside?"

"My family and I were frozen," Nate replied. "We spent less than an hour in the Vault itself."

Piper paused. "Wait, they boxed you up in a fridge the whole time? Are you saying you were alive before the war?"

Nate nodded. "Yes; I'm over 200 years old."

Piper's jaw dropped. "Oh my God. The Man out of Time! That's amazing!"

Nate calmly answered Piper's questions, the reporter getting more and more excited. In the corner, Nat was busily preparing the press for the latest issue of the newspaper. Piper finished scribbling in her notepad and fixed Nate with a pointed look. "The threat of kidnapping is all but ignored in the Commonwealth. People want to pretend it just doesn't happen. What would you say to someone who's lost a loved one, but might be too scared or numb to the world to look for them?"

Nate thought for a moment. "No matter how tough it gets, don't lose hope. You have to have hope that you'll see them again, or at least that you'll find out the truth."

"A strong note to end on, Blue," Piper mused. "Thanks."

Nat waved from the printing press, and Piper stood up from her desk. "That's all for now, Blue. I gotta get this to print, so take a wander around. As for who can help you find your son, go see Nick Valentine at the Valentine Detective Agency. Follow the heart-shaped neon signs to his office. Good luck; I'll see you later."

Nate nodded his thanks and shut the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9: Search and Rescue

**Chapter 9: Search and Rescue**

Nate left Piper's cluttered office and emerged onto Diamond City's main drag. People passing by gave Nate a few odd looks, mostly focused on the Pip-Boy strapped to his wrist. Nate paid the stares no mind and headed for a shop that looked like it was selling weapons.  
"Hi there," Nate greeted the merchant, a handsome Hispanic man.  
The man looked Nate up and down. "Never seen you here before, stranger. Where you from?"  
Nate shrugged. "It's a long story. Do you sell weapons?"  
" _Do I sell weapons_ ," the man scoffed good-naturedly, holding out a hand. "Name's Arturo Rodriguez; purveyor of all manner of lethal devices for any occasion."

Arturo opened a cabinet behind him to reveal a moving conveyor belt rack covered in dozens, if not hundreds of weapons, going around like a carousel. Nate whistled at the impressive arsenal. "I guess you'd never get robbed with that much hardware on hand."  
Arturo's grin was just a tad feral. "You'd be surprised, my friend. Now what can I get you?" Nate placed his double-barrel shotgun on the desk in front of Arturo. "I need a new shotgun; auto or semi-auto will do. I need at least one hand on the wheel."

"A road warrior, huh?" Arturo nodded. "I may have just the thing." The gun merchant disappeared into the shop and returned a moment later, holding one of the strangest devices Nate had ever seen. The weapon consisted of a pair of steel gauntlets covered in straps and lined with rows of shotgun shells and bullets. Arturo beamed proudly at Nate's gobsmacked expression. "Made 'em myself. There's a twelve-gauge shotgun and a ten-mil pistol in each glove. You can fire the guns in the gauntlets with a trigger, and when you punch something too."  
"How much?" Nate fit the right gauntlet over his arm, testing the weight.  
Arturo didn't blink. "Seven thousand caps."  
Nate opened his mouth, closed it, and put the gauntlet back on the table. "I'll just stick with an automatic shotgun."  
Arturo shrugged. "I can keep these in stock if you change your mind."  
"Thanks." Nate placed a handful of bottle caps on the counter and slipped his new purchase into his holster.

Nate turned away from Arturo's shop, when a bright red light caught his eye. A neon sign hung from the side of a shack, glowing with the word 'Detective'. Nate cautiously checked over his shoulder and followed the sign down the alleyway. A few feet away was another glowing sign in front of a red door. Nate pushed the door open and entered the Valentine Detective Agency. Inside was a small office stuffed to the gills with filing cabinets. Two desks stood at either end of the office, and to the left was a staircase. A woman in a black blouse and a pink skirt was rummaging through a filing cabinet with her back to the Vault-Dweller. "Oh, Nick," she sighed wistfully.

Nate cleared his throat and the woman turned. "Another stray coming in from the rain," she said sadly. "I'm afraid you're too late. The office is closed."  
"Please," Nate implored the woman. "It's important. Piper sent me to find the detective. Do you know Nick Valentine?"  
"I guess you could say he's my boss," the woman replied. "I'm Ellie Perkins. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but Nick is missing. He left for a case almost a month ago, and he hasn't been back since. Some girl was kidnapped by Skinny Malone's gang, out in Park Street Station; there's an old Vault down there."

"I've got a car," Nate offered. "I could find him."  
Ellie perked up immediately. "Really? That would be amazing. Nick's really important to... the agency," she said, blushing.  
Nate nodded. "Gimme a direction, and I'll have Nick back home safe."  
Ellie rummaged in another filing cabinet and pulled out a map. "Here's the fastest way to get to Park Street."

Several minutes later, Nate emerged from the Detective Office and took a few steps forward, when a hand grabbed his shoulder. Nate jumped a foot in the air, whirled on the spot and drew his new shotgun, pointing it straight at…  
"Piper?" Nate gasped. "Don't DO that! You scared the hell out of me!"  
"Says the one pointing a shotgun at my face," Piper crossed her arms. "Did Nick agree to help you?"  
Nate shook his head. "I just got assigned a rescue mission. Valentine's been captured by a gang."

Piper squared her shoulders. "In that case, I wanna come with you; Nick _is_ a friend of mine, after all."  
"Sorry," Nate replied. "It's going to be dangerous, and I don't want to be the reason you don't come back home to Nat."  
"Fine." Piper grumbled. "I expect a good story when you get back." Piper followed Nate back through Diamond City and entered the Publick Occurrences offices. Nate waved to Nat and Piper before the door shut, and headed in the direction of the stadium garages.

 _Song: Stormzy - "Vossi Bop"  
_ Nate turned the Hunter's ignition key and the Big Chief roared to life. The Hunter pulled out of the work bay and rolled through the workshop. Nate plugged the wireless transmitter from his Pip-Boy into the car's stereo and the whole car thudded with bass. As Nate passed by, several vehicle crews paused their work to watch the black Hunter roll past. Nate made a big show of lifting his shotgun and loading shells into the magazine, and that seemed to warn off some of the more shady-looking interested parties.

Nate approached the main gate of Diamond City and waved to Danny Sullivan. Up ahead, the green-painted gate jolted into motion and began rising. Nate counted to three and hit the gas. The Big Chief snarled and the Hunter shot forward, the noise deafening in the enclosed concrete space. Nate spun the wheel and the Hunter drifted underneath the gate with centimeters to spare, tearing off down the road to the east. Nate nodded his head to the music as he cruised down the highway that snaked through Central Boston. Every so often, Nate's Pip-Boy beeped, signaling points of interest that the Hunter drove past. Nate turned to the left and ascended a ramp onto a section of suspended highway, weaving between rusted corpses of vehicles that were too broken to salvage. Out the window to the left, Nate gaped in awe at the skyscraper towering overhead. Even 200 years after the bombs, this building stood tall, in defiance of time and the elements.

Just then, the music on Nate's Pip-Boy cut out and the radio crackled. A man's voice started talking in a panicked tone. " _Help! Or mayday! Or whatever the hell it is one says on the radio! My name is Rex Goodman. I'm being held prisoner at the top of Trinity Tower. I think the super mutants plan on eating me soon. I'm setting this to repeat...oh shit! Gotta sign off. One of the super mutants is coming!_ "  
Nate listened to the broadcast again, before deactivating the radio function on the Pip-Boy. " _Sorry, Rex,_ " Nate thought. " _I'm already on a rescue mission._ " However, in spite of himself, Nate left a map marker on the Pip-Boy, showing the tower's location.

An hour later, Nate left the highway and cruised down the street, following a sign marked _Boston Common._ Up ahead was a large open square with a pond and several small buildings, including a gazebo, and some kind of information stand where a Protectron unit aimlessly ambled around. Nate slowed to a halt and looked for a sign, when he suddenly felt a gun barrel against his head. "Move and you're dead, asshole," someone whispered. "Turn the engine off." Nate twisted the ignition key, and slowly raised his hands. "What do you want?"  
"Smart guy," the other man smirked quietly, keeping his gun raised. "We want your car. You let us drive off, you live. If you fight, we shoot you and leave you here for Swan. How's that sound?" Behind the man, three more robbers emerged from around the corner. All the people were dressed in suits and holding machine guns. Strangely, all of them stepped lightly, avoiding any debris.

The lead robber opened Nate's door and hauled him out. Nate sprawled on the concrete, glad to be away from the machine gun barrel. The leader got into the Hunter and carefully shut the door. Two other robbers stood behind the Hunter and began to push, while the last one walked in front, moving junk and scattered garbage out of the way of the tires. Nate watched the odd procession, racking his brains. The robbers were doing their best to stay silent, most likely out of fear. Nate deduced something dangerous nearby must have been attracted to noise. Not the Protectron; those things were walking toasters, not even remotely threatening. Nate scanned the area, when movement caught his eye. A lump of garbage on the pond's surface shifted and moved. A plastic swan's head sat on top of the pile of trash, and the robbers kept throwing anxious glances at it, giving Nate an idea. When the robbers were halfway past the pond, heading for a break in the nearby buildings, Nate took a deep breath, pulled out a shotgun, and activated the Pip-Boy's radio.

The Hunter's stereo exploded to life, streaming music from the wireless transmitter still plugged into the car. The music echoed off the buildings in a cacophony of sound. A second later came a bloodcurdling roar, and the color drained from all the robbers' faces.

The most terrifying being Nate had ever seen surged from the water of the pond, roaring like a titan. In one hand it held a massive anchor. Its other arm was covered with half a broken boat. Chunks of the plastic swan-shaped boats around the pond were strapped to its body, and the creature's face was covered in white paint. Seeing the monstrosity, all the robbers jumped into the Hunter, started the engine and took off in a cloud of dust and exhaust. Swan bellowed after them, charging like a bull, trying to catch the fleeing Hunter. Nate crouched behind a mailbox, shaking in terror.

The huge beast gave up chasing the Hunter, and slowly turned and walked back to the pond, growling in frustration. Nate breathed out a sigh of relief as Swan began to step back into the water, until another voice froze his blood. " _Welcome-to-Bos-ton-Common._ " The Protectron unit had walked up behind Nate with a burnt brochure in its claw. Three things happened in instant succession; Nate put a shell through the Protectron's head, Swan roared and charged toward the noise, and all hell proceeded to break loose.

Nate dove to the side as Swan's anchor smashed through the mailbox he'd been hiding behind. Swan growled angrily and lifted the anchor, preparing to strike again. Nate rolled backwards as the anchor came down, but a swipe of the half-boat on Swan's other arm sent Nate flying. The Vault-Dweller flew across the Boston Common and splashed into the pond. The irradiated water burned Nate's skin and sent his Pip-Boy's geiger counter screeching. Coughing and spluttering, Nate broke the water's surface, just in time to see Swan dive in with a growl. Nate frantically swam to the edge of the pond and hauled himself onto dry land, gasping for breath, when a huge hand emerged from the water and grabbed onto his leg.

Swan grabbed onto Nate's foot and began to pull him closer to the water, and certain death. Nate clung onto a broken lamppost for dear life, feeling as though his hip was about to be pulled from its socket. Nate's pained cry was answered by Swan's bloodthirsty roar, and Nate could feel his grip giving way. Suddenly, the base of the lamppost disintegrated into shards of rusted metal, and Nate was lifted up as Swan stood up to its full height in the water. Flailing and screaming madly, Nate managed to grab a piece of jagged metal, and swiped it in the direction of Swan's meaty hand.

The crude metal sword found its mark and the back of Swan's hand was slashed open, spilling green blood everywhere. Swan itself recoiled with a pained howl and dropped the Vault-Dweller to the concrete. Nate scrambled away from the enraged behemoth and struggled to his feet. Behind him, Swan had shaken off the pain of its wounded hand, and leaped out of the water again, intending to finish the fight. Nate didn't look back; he took off, running as fast as he could towards the safety of a nearby Metro station entrance. Surprisingly, after a minute, Nate found he could no longer hear Swan's thundering steps behind him. Cautiously, Nate peeked out from around the corner of the Metro entrance. Swan was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, Nate walked down the ramp into Park Street Station, following the tracking signal from the Pip-Boy's transmitter.

Some time later, Nate crept through the doorway into the Vault's atrium. The wide hall and high ceiling rang with the echoes of a smug voice speaking in a thick Boston accent. "How you doin' in there, Valentine? Hope you're comfy."  
" _Keep talking, meathead_!" Another voice intruded on the silence. " _It'll just give Skinny Malone more time to think of how he's gonna bump you off!_ "  
Nate tiptoed closer to the wide window at the end of the atrium, where a man in a collared shirt and suit pants stood with his back to the Vault-Dweller. The man scoffed. "Don't gimme that crap, Valentine. You know nothin', you got nothin'."  
" _Really?_ " Valentine's disembodied voice replied. " _I saw him writing your name in that black book of his. 'Lousy, cheating card shark,' I believe were his exact words. Then he struck your name across three times._ "  
Nate watched from behind a metal crate as the thug's face drained of all color. The man pulled at his collar. "Three strikes?" he gasped. "Three strikes in the black book? Oh no; I gotta go smooth this over."

The thug turned away from the window and quickly walked towards the stairs. As soon as he rounded the corner, Nate stood up from behind the crate, crossed the distance between them in one step, and shoved his shotgun barrel under the thug's chin in one smooth motion.  
"Hi," Nate smiled, and pulled the trigger. The thug's head disintegrated in a splash of red, painting the wall behind. Nate grabbed the man's shirt and lowered the body to the ground quietly.

" _Hey you!_ " Valentine's voice rang out. " _Get over here!_ "  
Nate walked to the window and peered through. The room beyond was dark, but a pair of glowing yellow eyes penetrated the gloom, focused on Nate's face. From out of the darkness, Valentine spoke again. " _I don't know who you are, but we got about three minutes before 'Muscles-for-Brains' friends arrive to investigate that gunshot. Get this damn door open, will ya?_ "  
Nate rifled through the dead thug's pockets and drew out a key card. A quick swipe later, and the door to the Overseer's office slid open. Nate stepped inside and stopped short.

Nick Valentine emerged from the darkness of the office and Nate gasped. Valentine looked like something out of a nightmare. Whatever he was, he was clearly not human. The plastic skin of his face was ripped and tattered where his jaw met his neck. One hand was nothing more than a spidery-looking robotic construct. Exposed metal parts could be seen moving through Nick's torn skin. A grey fedora was perched on Nick's head at a suave angle, and his trench coat looked very well-kept. Nate was jolted out of his shock when Nick spoke again.  
"Ah, my knight in shining armor. But my question is, why come all this way and risk life and limb for an old private eye?"  
"What...are you?" Nate stammered  
Nick rolled his yellow eyes. "I told ya; I'm a detective. I know the skin and the metal parts ain't comforting, but that's not important right now. What I wanna know is why you went to all this trouble to cut me loose."

Nate swallowed. "I need you to find someone, but it's complicated. I don't know where they are, or how long they've been gone."  
Nick shrugged. "I've done jobs with less to go on. Somehow, 'nice and simple' rarely makes it onto the menu in my world. Take this case for example." Nick gestured around the office in disgust. "I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak as wide as the Mass Pike Interchange."  
"Sounds like you got a raw deal," Nate grimaced. Nick chuckled wryly. "Don't I know it. Anyway, I'm glad to help with your problem but now ain't the time; let's blow this joint, and then we'll talk."

Valentine stepped through the office door and picked up the submachine gun off the dead thug. Nate picked up a Vault-Boy bobblehead off the nearby desk and followed the private eye. "So who's this 'Skinny Malone' anyway?"  
"A gang boss," Valentine called over his shoulder as he checked an empty room. "He subscribes to the 'three-piece-suit, caviar-and-submachine-gun' school of thought, so we gotta be careful." Valentine slid a door open and staggered back with a curse. A machine-gun-wielding thug burst through the door and leveled his weapon at Valentine's head. Nate strode forward and placed the barrel of his shotgun to the man's temple. With a noise like a cannon, the thug's head disappeared into a red splatter. Nick nodded his thanks and the pair ran to the end of the hall.

Valentine turned to Nate. "We need to get to my War Rig," he instructed, slipping fresh bullets into his revolver. Nate raised an eyebrow. "What's a War Rig?"  
Nick paused. "You must be new to these parts. Ain't you ever seen one before?"  
At Nate's blank look, Nick shook his head. "My War Rig is my mobile office. It's a fortress on wheels, and it's our best chance of gettin' out of here with our heads still attached to our shoulders."  
"Sounds like a plan," Nate nodded. "We'll need to get my car back too. These assholes stole it."  
"It's probably in the Vault's garage." Nick rounded a corner and put a full load of shots into another triggerman. "I got space for a car behind the Rig. I'll get your car and bring both to the atrium, and we'll get outta this rat-hole together. You go get the Vault door open. Careful though; if I know Skinny, and I do, he's taking his last stand in the entrance hall with whatever muscle he has left."  
"Got it." Nate took the left path and the detective slipped down a hallway to the right.

Nate pushed his way through a door and stopped short. A crowd of triggermen stood in the middle of the open hall, all pointing their guns at him. Behind the crowd, the Vault's massive, gear-shaped door gaped open. In the middle of the crowd, a raven-haired woman stood next to a fat man in a tuxedo holding a golden submachine gun. Nate scowled.  
The man in the tux, Skinny, spat in Nate's direction. "What the hell you think you're doin', asshole? You come into my Vault and shoot up my boys; you got any idea how much this is gonna set me back?"  
"Don't know, don't care," Nate shot back. "I'm not here for you anyway; I came here for Valentine."  
The woman next to Skinny rounded on the mobster. "I told you we should have just killed the fucker, before he brought this shit down on our heads! But you had to get all sentimental; talking about the 'old days'. Gimme a break!"

Nate raised an eyebrow. "You must be Darla. Nick was sent here to get you. Maybe you should write home more often."  
"Oh yeah," Darla sneered. "I'll just drive straight back to daddy with my tail between my legs, huh?"  
Nate raised his shotgun. "That's one option."  
"Excuse me!" Skinny piped up. "You're talkin' like you expect to get outta here alive after what you just pulled!"  
Nate rounded on Skinny. "Yes I am walking out of here alive." Keeping his shotgun aimed, the Vault-Dweller turned to Darla. "Now you have two options. Either you put a bullet through Skinny and come with me willingly, or I put one shot in Skinny, another shot in your leg, tie you to the War Rig when it gets here, and drag you back to Diamond City anyway."  
To her credit, Darla could sense the menace in Nate's voice and dropped her baseball bat. Beside her, Skinny jumped in shock. "Where the hell is Valentine?!"

As if on cue, the garage doors of the atrium were smashed off their rails by an enormous vehicle. Several triggermen dove out of the way as the massive Rig screeched to a stop. A second later, Nick opened the driver's door and let fly with a submachine gun. Nate pulled his shotgun's trigger, and Skinny flew backwards with a pained curse. Without missing a beat, Nate trained his shotgun on Darla. "Your choice," he warned. Darla kicked her baseball bat away and approached the War Rig. Nick hoisted the woman up into the backseat and clamped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. "Let's go!"

Nate jumped on the Rig and grabbed a handhold. Nick slammed the driver's door and hit the gas. The War Rig's wheels spun and it surged forward, past the enraged ranks of the triggermen. Nate clung on, firing back until his shotgun ran dry. The tunnel Nick was driving through began to slant upwards, and a light grew brighter, until the Rig burst through the cave opening into the bright Commonwealth sun.  
Nate hauled himself up around behind the Rig's cab and slipped through the passenger door into the shotgun seat. Once inside, Nate whistled, seriously impressed.  
"Good, huh?" Nick grinned. "I got this Rig as a thank-you gift from the old Mayor of Diamond City."

Nate looked around the giant war machine. The Rig's main body was made from a Kamaz Dakar truck, with raised suspension and six huge offroad wheels. On top of the truck chassis was the body of a Cadillac El Dorado with a stretched hood. In the front, a large metal plow shunted rusty car bodies and other junk out of the Rig's way. Protruding from the hood was a pair of blowers, feeding gallons of air into the Rig's engine.  
"What the hell is the powerplant of this thing?" Nate gasped. Nick smirked. "Twin supercharged Big Chief V8s. Good for twenty-five-hundred buff horses. Top speed's over a hundred miles an hour; and that's when it's dragging my trailer."  
Nate craned his head around and stared out the back window. Attached to the Rig was a cylindrical trailer painted with the 'Valentine Detective Agency' logo. Further behind, Nate spotted his Hunter being pulled along after the trailer.  
"Damn, that's impressive," Nate whistled.

Suddenly a bullet ricocheted off the doorframe next to Nate. Nick looked in the mirror and growled. Emerging from the Vault's tunnel was a crowd of cars, full of triggermen. Nick changed gears down and hit the gas, sending the War Rig powering ahead. Nate jammed a fresh batch of shells into his shotgun and climbed back onto the outside of the rig. A sleek black car roared up alongside the War Rig, and a triggerman aimed his gun out the window at Nate. The Vault-Dweller blasted the shotgun at the car's tire, and the mob car spun out, falling far behind.  
Nate clambered up on top of the Rig's trailer and pulled a combat rifle from his Pip-Boy's databanks. Taking careful aim, Nate breathed out and squeezed the trigger. A nearby triggerman's head snapped back in a splatter of red, and the car he was driving flipped and rolled to a flaming stop.

Suddenly, a missile whistled past Nate's head. Cursing, Nate hit the deck as another missile impacted on the armored side of the trailer. In the cab, Nick swore as he wrestled to keep the War Rig under control. Just then, Darla leapt forward over the seats and yanked Nick's head back using the handcuff chain between her wrists. "I'll give you to Skinny on a silver fucking platter!" she screeched. Up above, Nate dodged another missile and ran towards the Rig's cab. Grabbing a length of chain, Nate hooked onto a nearby loop of metal and swung down off the side of the trailer, flying through the air. A split second later, Nate's boots slammed onto the metal deck behind the cab, he whirled and aimed his rifle at Darla's face. "Let him go!" Nate yelled, when a bullet smashed into his shoulder.

Nate cursed and dropped his rifle, which clattered away and fell off the Rig. Whether by accident or by pure luck, a triggerman car drove over the rifle. Driving over a rod of metal in any car is generally a very bad idea, as the triggerman demonstrated. The black Mob vehicle smashed to a halt as the end of the rifle wedged on a rock, flipping over forward onto its roof. In spite of himself, Nate watched in awe for a second. Back inside the cab, Nick had twisted out of Darla's chokehold, and delivered a brutal punch to the brunette's face, knocking her out cold before grabbing the steering wheel again. Nate grabbed a belt full of grenades from his Pip-Boy, pulled the main pin, and threw it behind the War Rig.

Three seconds later, a colossal explosion blew a crater in the highway, followed by three more triggerman vehicles going up in flames. Sensing defeat, Skinny signalled to his drivers to turn back, seething with anger the whole time. "I'll get you, Nicky! You hear me? I'LL GET YOU SOMEDAY!" Skinny shook his fist furiously at the escaping War Rig.  
Back on the Rig, Nate collapsed back into the shotgun seat, clutching at the wound in his shoulder.  
"Looks nasty," Nick grimaced. "There's a stimpak in the glovebox."  
Nate grabbed the silver and red syringe. "I'll never get used to this." With that, he jabbed the stimpak into his chest with a hiss of pain. A few seconds later, Nate watched in fascination as his shoulder pushed out the bullet, before his flesh seamlessly knit itself back together. Nate leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes as the War Rig thundered down the highway, headed back to Diamond City.


	10. Chapter 10: Bitch, Get A Clue

**Chapter 10: Bitch, Get A Clue**

Nick pulled the War Rig over once Skinny Malone's gang's cars were well out of sight. The massive Rig cycled down with a hiss of air brakes and a whine from the superchargers. Mercifully, the Rig shutting off caused Darla to quiet down too. The woman had regained consciousness soon after Skinny's gang had been driven off, and she'd spent the past half hour spewing a litany of insults, taunts and threats against both the detective and the Vault-Dweller. Nate hopped down from the passenger seat and pulled open the back door, and Darla pressed her back tightly against the opposite door. Nate motioned for the woman to get out of the rig. In response, Darla firmly gave Nate the finger. Nate rolled his eyes and pulled out a 10mm pistol. Darla stuck out her tongue, and Nate fired a round into the sky.

The gunshot echoed through the air and Nick shouted from the War Rig's driver side. "What the hell are you doing?" Nick called up to Nate. "We can't send her to her folks full of holes!"  
"We got stimpaks, right?" Nate called back across. "She's been a royal pain in the ass since we escaped that Vault!"  
Nick rolled his eyes. "Oh for the love of Pete." The detective hauled himself up on the rig and opened the back door, sending Darla tumbling backwards out of the rig with a squawk, landing in the dirt. Nick pointed his own gun at Darla, who glared at him defiantly.

"The way I see it, you got two choices," Nick cleared his throat. "You can either come with me to the cell in the trailer and ride in relative comfort, or we can attach a chain to those handcuffs of yours and you can run behind the Rig; although with those shoes, I doubt you'd make it a hundred feet."  
Darla burst into very loud, obviously fake sobs. " _This is-hic-the worst-hic-day of my life!_ " she wailed.  
Nick rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm gonna take it easy on you just 'cause you're a dame, you're _sorely_ mistaken. Not to mention the fact that it's your fault I got locked in that Vault for weeks, so I'm still salty about that. Maybe now you'll think twice before gettin' involved with lowlife scumbags like Skinny again."

"What if we...struck a deal?" Darla played another card, changing tack at the speed of light. "You'll find I'm very good at... _negotiating_." As she spoke, Darla lifted her dress, showing acres of leg. Nick smirked wryly. "Have you forgotten I'm a synth? That does nothin' for me, sweetheart; A for effort though."  
Darla made a face like she smelled something nasty. "I wasn't talking to you, robo-dick! I'm talking to you, Vault-Boy," she practically purred, running her eyes shamelessly up and down Nate's body. "Care to share some of that old-world knowledge?"  
Nate cringed. "Not gonna happen. Go sell sleazy some place else."

Darla gnashed her teeth together, until Nick snapped his fingers. "Now that we've established that nothin' you say and no one you do is gonna get you outta this, what's your choice; brig, or a long, long run?"  
Darla scowled, and Nick shrugged. "Hey Vault-Dweller! Open that storage box on the trailer, will ya? I think there's a length of chain in there."  
Darla huffed furiously. "Fine, motherfucker, I'll come quietly. Just don't make me run in these heels."  
Nick grinned with all the compassion of a shark. "There; was that so hard?" The detective hoisted Darla onto the Rig's platform and opened a door leading into the tanker trailer before calling down to Nate. "Come on, One-Eleven. Step into my office."

Nate followed Nick and Darla inside the War Rig's trailer, and cast an impressed look around the space. Contrary to its outside appearance, the trailer was extremely roomy, with enough headroom to stand comfortably. The floor was made of flat metal grating, and running the length of the trailer under the floor was a clear plastic tank full of water, to keep the trailer's center of gravity low. Along one side of the trailer was a bed, a gun rack, a weapons workbench and a desk. The other wall was taken up by rows of filing cabinets and a pre-War refrigerator. At the far end of the trailer was a sturdy metal cage that Nick had just finished locking Darla inside. Nick opened the refrigerator and tossed Darla a sweet roll and a can of cram. "Get comfortable," the detective drawled. "We should be at Diamond City in a few hours."

Nate and Nick exited the trailer. Nate jogged around to the back of the War Rig to inspect the Hunter. A second later, Nate staggered to a stop. "THOSE MOTHERFUCKING PIECES OF MOLE RAT SHIT!" The Vault-Dweller ranted and raved, stomping around the Hunter. Nick leaned on the Rig's trailer awkwardly. "Yeah, I meant to tell you…"  
The triggermen of Vault 114 had already started to take apart the Hunter. The black car was missing its hood, and most of the engine bay had been cleaned out. The Big Chief's exhaust system was missing, the ignition wires and distributor were absent, all the engine's serpentine belts and pulleys had been removed, and the supercharger was gone.  
"Those _assholes_!" Nate seethed. "Those _inbred, back-ass-wards, mobster-wannabe...AAAARGH!_ " Nate unholstered his combat shotgun and emptied a full magazine into a nearby tree. The ancient wood creaked, cracked, and with a groan, the tree toppled over onto a wrecked Corvega, which exploded into a small mushroom cloud. Nate rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Nick raised an eyebrow. "Feel better?" he asked with a concerned look. Nate stalked past the detective." Let's go."

The Valentine War Rig roared down the highway. In the cab, Nick puffed on a cigarette and kept one eye on the screen showing the inside of the trailer. Meanwhile, Nate precariously balanced on the towing apparatus connecting the Hunter to the rear of the trailer, performing what meager repairs he could on the Hunter's gutted engine. Diamond City drew closer, appearing out of the hazy, sticky air, and Nick shifted down several gears, slowing the Rig to a crawl as he approached the security perimeter. As the Rig stopped, Nate hopped off the towing frame and walked up to the cab, where a masked security guard waited.

"What's your business in Diamond City?" the guard grunted. Nate scowled impatiently. "We're bringing in a bounty."  
The guard flipped through a small notepad. "That's interesting," he intoned threateningly. "I don't recall any bounties were due for collection today."  
" _Hey_!" Nick shouted down from the cab. " _You forget whose Rig this is, Weston_?"  
Weston the security guard looked up at the cab and jumped in shock when he saw Nick's battered plastic face peering down at him. "Mister Valentine! Folks round here thought you was dead!"  
" _Not by a long shot_ ," Nick called back. " _Let us in, will ya_?"  
Weston walked to a point on the fence and pulled a hidden lever. The fence gate swung open and Nick put the Rig in gear. Nate hopped on and hung from a handhold as the Rig approached Diamond City's massive metal gate.

Inside Diamond City's auto shop, Nick emerged from the trailer-office, dragging a struggling Darla by one arm. Darla had abandoned her expensive-looking high heels and was attempting to wrestle free of the detective's literal steel grip. Nick managed to corral Darla to street level and passed Nate a handful of caps from his jacket. "I gotta get this runaway back to her folks," he explained. "Go get yourself some noodles or something, and meet me back at the office in an hour. I also gotta check on some people; make sure they know I'm still kickin'."  
"Sure thing, Nick," Nate shrugged. "Can I leave my car here?"  
Nick nodded. "Not like it's goin' any place after what Malone's boys did to it."  
"I know a place where I can fix it," Nate replied. "See you later."

Nick dragged Darla off in the direction of the elevator leading to the Upper Stands, and Nate headed out the players' door to the marketplace.  
Even late at night, Diamond City Market was buzzing. Most people were clustered around the Power Noodles stand, or lined up outside the Dugout Inn. Some of the shopkeepers had retired for the night, but the barbers' was still open, and a Mister Handy unit staffed the Diamond City Surplus shop. Nate walked down to Power Noodles and took a place in line. A few minutes later, Nate stood in front of a Protectron that wore a chef's hat and apron. The robot beeped to acknowledge Nate's presence, and spoke in a strange language. " _Na-ni shimaso-ka_?"  
"What?" Nate asked, confused. The Protectron chef repeated the same phrase.  
Nate shook his head. "I don't understand you." Behind him, a few people in line started to look annoyed as the robot repeated itself yet again.

"He'll take two bowls, Takahashi," someone said. Nate turned to see Piper walking towards him. Behind Nate, a haughty-looking blonde woman scowled. "Back of the fucking line, snitch."  
"The line I helped get moving again?" Piper scowled. "Come on, Blue; let's get outta here."  
Nate accepted the two steaming bowls of noodles from the odd Protectron and followed Piper back to the Publick Occurrences building. The reporter sat down on the steps and held out a hand. Nate gave Piper a bowl of noodles and she brought it close to her face, closing her eyes and inhaling the fragrant steam. Nate glanced at Piper, and couldn't help but stare. The soft yellow streetlamps framed Piper's slim face in a warm light. She breathed deeply, parting her lips, and just then she opened her eyes and caught Nate looking. For a split second, Nate took in every detail of Piper's eyes; deep hazel that almost glowed gold in the light, glinting with intelligence and confidence. Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, Nate quickly buried his head in his own bowl.

Piper gave an amused chuckle. "See somethin' you like, Blue?"  
Nate coughed. "The place looks different at night; all the lights make things look…" he trailed off.  
Piper gave a contented sigh. "I know what you mean, Blue. This may not be the nicest place in the world, but it's home." Piper finished her bowl of noodles and leaned back against one of the porch pillars across from Nate, lighting a cigarette. After a few puffs, she smirked. "And for the record, you _are_ pretty easy on the eyes, Blue. Nothin' to be ashamed of."  
"Don't print that," Nate laughed awkwardly. Piper held out her cigarette. "You partake?"

Nate shook his head. "I tried smoking only once, when I was ten. Dad was on the phone; he had a cigarette and all I wanted at that age was to be just like him."  
"Ten years old?" Piper said in surprise. "Don't tell me…"  
"Oh yeah," Nate smirked. "I bugged him for almost ten minutes, until he gave it to me. I went to the living room, took one puff, and almost threw up. I was still coughing twenty minutes later, and I swore I'd never touch another cigarette."  
Piper cracked up laughing, which brought a smile to Nate's face, before she looked across the market thoughtfully. "I remember Crazy Myrna once brought in a whole shipment of pre-War smokes. Nastiest things I ever smelled. One advantage of rolling your own cigarettes; you know there's none of that nasty shit they used to put in 'em, just pure leaves."  
"I will admit, it's not bad," Nate sniffed the air. "A lot like wood smoke."  
Piper leaned towards Nate. "The flavour's really nice too." Nate's gaze fixed on those shining hazel eyes as Piper shifted closer. "Y...yeah," Nate stammered.  
Piper blushed at Nate's nervous smile, and placed her hand next to his, leaning in further. "You...still sure you won't try?"

"There you are!" Valentine shouted, stomping towards Publick Occurrences. Nate and Piper sprang backwards and quickly turned to face the irate detective. Valentine paused, and a wide smirk made its way across his face. "Did I _interrupt_ something?" he asked slyly.  
" _No_ ," both Piper and Nate replied quickly, faces red.  
Nick shrugged. "Well, Vault-Dweller, since I'm not interrupting anything, you shouldn't be too busy to come to my office and discuss the case you're hiring me for."  
Nate got to his feet and followed the detective. As he walked away, Nate heard a disappointed sigh fading into the Market's noise.

Inside the Valentine Agency office, Nick staggered back as Ellie ran up and wrapped her arms around the synth, practically tackling him. Nick awkwardly patted Ellie's back as she held on. " _I was worried sick!_ " Ellie's muffled voice issued from Nick's trench coat. " _I thought Malone killed you!_ "  
"If his dame had her way, I'd be dead," Valentine replied. "Thanks to our friend here though, I'm fine."  
Ellie turned to Nate. "Thank you so much." She held out a bag that clinked with the sound of bottle caps. Nate took the bag and nodded. "No problem."  
By then, Nick had sat down at his desk, and he motioned for Nate to take a seat. "When you're trying to find someone who's gone missing, the devil's in the details. Tell me everything you can remember, no matter how painful it might be."  
Nate cleared his throat. "We're looking for my son, Shaun. He's less than a year old. He was kidnapped from the Vault we were inside, Vault 111. It was some kind of cryogenics facility."

"You were on ice, huh?" Nick made a note on some paper. "More importantly, you were underground, sealed up. That's a hell of a complicated job to pull off. How many were there?"  
Nate racked his brains. "There was a man and a woman. The woman was wearing some kind of hazard suit. She tried to take Shaun from...my wife...Nora." Nate trailed off and began to hyperventilate. "I had a wife. Or do I? Do I still have a wife if she's dead? Am I even still married? I mean, Nora died in the Vault, and it's been 200 years; are marriages even still a thing anymore? And, oh my god, I almost...Piper...am I cheating? What the hell am I doing?" Nate's voice grew higher as he began to panic.  
"Hey, focus, stay with me here," Nick snapped his fingers a few times, getting Nate's attention. "What you and Piper were doing is none of my business, but that's not important."

"You're right," Nate nodded, taking a deep breath. Nick wrote something else down in his notes. "Something occurred to me," he said. "Why your family in particular, and why your infant son? Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it."  
Nate scratched his temple in thought. "The man who shot Nora after she tried to stop them taking Shaun said I was the backup."  
Nick nodded. "So a highly skilled mercenary breaks into a Vault to steal an infant and leaves one of the parents alive as a fallback for something. This confirms it; this wasn't a random kidnapping. Whoever took your son had an agenda. What did this man look like?" Nick asked. Nate found his anger and gritted his teeth. "Ugly motherfucker," he grunted. "Bald with a beard and a scar down his left eye."  
Nick's face went slack with shock. "It can't be…" he said slowly. "You didn't hear the name 'Kellogg,' did you?"

Nate shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."  
Nick turned to his secretary. "Ellie, what notes to we have on Kellogg?"  
"The description matches." Ellie crossed the room to a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. "Bald head, scar, reputation for dangerous merc work, but no one knows who his employers are. The last info we have on him was the purchase of a house here in Diamond City."  
"And he had a kid with him," Valentine continued. "Must have been around ten years old."  
"How could that be Shaun?" Nate threw up his hands. "That's nine years difference."  
"Let's not jump the gun here," Nick reassured Nate. "The simplest thing we can do is go snoop around Kellogg's old house. Maybe we'll find something useful."

Valentine and Nate left the detective office and headed for Diamond City's abandoned West Stands. In this part of the stadium, the houses appeared to be falling apart where they stood. People dressed in tattered clothing wandered the rusting metal pathways. Nate rested one hand on his Pip-Boy, looking around nervously. Valentine led Nate up a set of rotten wooden stairs, to a house at the end of a catwalk. "Here we are," the detective gestured to the house. "You care to do the honours?"  
Nate pictured Kellogg's face in his mind, took a deep breath, and furiously smashed the butt of his shotgun down on the door handle. The metal handle snapped off, and Nate kicked the door in.

Kellogg's house was fairly tidy, compared to all the squalor of the West Stands. Cigars and beer occupied a space on the coffee table, a TV rested on a dresser against one wall and a small sleeping area could be seen up a flight of stairs.  
Nate growled in frustration. "He's not here. Neither is Shaun." Meanwhile, Nick was curiously examining the walls. "This place seemed bigger on the outside. Maybe…" Nick crossed the room and reached under the desk. A second later, a hidden doorway slid open. "Got it."  
Nate stepped into the secret room and fought the urge to whistle out loud. Inside the room were several rows of shelves containing dozens of food items, Nuka-Cola bottles and hundreds of rounds of ammunition. Nate filled his Pip-Boy's inventory and knelt down beside Valentine near the small coffee table. Valentine picked up a cigar and examined it closely.

"San Francisco Sunlights," Nate read. "Those can't be very common."  
Nick nodded. "You're right. I recognise the brand from...way back. Only available in one store in Golden Gate City. If these are Kellogg's, he's probably a native of the New California Republic."  
"Is there anything else?" Nate pressed. "Maybe he kept a notebook?"  
Nick shook his head. "Unfortunately, Kellogg ain't like most mercs. He's smart. He'd never leave anything sensitive lying around. What we need is a dog. These cigars should lead us to Kellogg."  
"I have a dog at the home base I've set up," Nate replied. "Dogmeat can help us."  
Valentine straightened up and pocketed the cigar box. "No time to lose then."

After making a stop at the office to let Ellie know they were leaving, Nate followed Valentine back through the Marketplace towards the auto shop. Nate kept throwing anxious glances at the Publick Occurrences building, but there was no sign of Piper. Nate began to scribble a note to the reporter, but crumpled it up and sighed as he and the detective walked past.  
"Somethin' on your mind?" Nick raised an eyebrow.  
Nate sighed again. "Just those same things I was so stressed out about in your office."  
"Like I said," Nick shrugged. "What you and Piper were doing ain't my business, but if it helps, she's definitely a good person, not to mention a close friend."

"But am _I_ a good person?" Nate pressed. "I mean, I saw my wife die right in front of me. The last thing I said to her was a promise that I'd find Shaun, and now here I am, almost kissing a reporter 200 years in the future! And to make matters worse, it's only been a few weeks since everything happened! It feels like cheating." Nate finished miserably.  
"I ain't saying you should put _everything_ on hold for a relationship," Nick said thoughtfully. "But as for your wife, and the whole cheating thing, do you really think your wife would want you to go around wearing black and weeping forever?"  
Nate thought for a moment. "If I died, I'd want her to move on eventually; stop holding onto a dead husband, and find happiness among the living."  
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Valentine nodded, with a wistful look in his yellow eyes..

In the auto shop, Nate watched a crane lift the Hunter onto a car trailer. A short way away, Nick was busily connecting the car trailer to the rear of his mobile office, forming a two-trailer road train. "This should work," he called to Nate. The Vault-Dweller clambered up onto the second trailer and started tightening the ratchet straps holding down the Hunter. Valentine hauled himself into the War Rig's driver's seat and started the powerful truck. The twin Big Chief V8s came to life with a rumble, and a burst of flames from the tall exhaust stacks. Nick put the War Rig in gear and the trailers jolted as the Rig began to move. Nate scrambled over top of Nick's office trailer and climbed into the cab beside the detective. Valentine carefully guided the Rig out of the auto shop and into the darkness outside the great green walls.

The Valentine War Rig thundered down the narrow streets of Boston, heading northwest. In the passenger seat, Nate kept a hold of his combat rifle, scanning the surroundings. Just then, the rig shuddered with an impact. The huge metal plow on the nose had just smashed through a wrecked car, sending the slab of metal sideways through a crumbling brick wall. Nate looked in the rear-view mirror and watched as the building fell in a massive cloud of dust.  
Nate returned his attention to the highway and cleared his throat. "Valentine."  
"Hmm?" Nick tilted his head. Nate hesitated before asking his question. "Who do you think Kellogg could have been working for?"

"Couldn't say for sure," Nick replied thoughtfully, turning the steering wheel. The War Rig leaned over to the right as Nick guided the mountain of metal up a left-spiraling ramp onto a raised section of highway. Once the Rig had leveled out, Valentine spoke again. "There's a few groups in the Commonwealth that take people, mostly for nefarious reasons. You said it was humans in the Vault; that rules out Super Mutants, besides, none of them would have the brains for a job like that."  
"Super Mutants?" Nate queried. "What are they?"  
Nick grunted. "Big, ugly, green, cannibalistic, muscles-on-muscles. _They_ say they're the next step in human evolution; _I_ think they're two steps backwards."  
"That sounds...bad," Nate said slowly. Valentine nodded. "You ever get captured by Super Mutants, best thing you can do is eat a bullet. Trust me, it's a lot less messy and painful than whatever they'll do to you."

Nate shuddered. "What other groups are there?"  
Valentine _hmmed_. "There's the Gunners; high-pay, high-skill mercenaries, but this job doesn't fit their MO. They travel in large groups, travel heavy, and they're not shy about using violence to get the job done. Regular raiders don't have the brains or the means to break into a sealed Vault, so…" Nick paused. "That really only leaves one possible option. You ever heard of the Institute?"

It may have been the Rig's air conditioning, but at Nick's words, Nate shivered slightly. " I've heard people mention it, but what is the Institute?"  
"Basically the Boogeyman of the Commonwealth," Nick explained. "Somethin' goes wrong, everyone blames the Institute. Easy to see why; those early model synths of theirs run in huge convoys, stripping whole towns for parts and fuel, killing everything in their path. And then there's the newer models; good as human. They infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows. No one knows why they do it, but everyone lives in fear of them."  
Just then, Nick swore and jerked the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a wrecked bus that appeared out of the darkness. "That was close," the detective breathed in relief.

About three hours of driving later, Nate peered out the side window and jerked upright at the sight of a moving shape on an adjacent raised highway. "Valentine, we got company."  
"Probably just a scout or a Nomad," Nick looked over and shrugged. "If it's just the one car, I ain't worried. Nobody round here is stupid enough to take on a War Rig singlehandedly and have a hope in hell of survival."  
Nate breathed out a sigh of relief as the tall tower of the Corvega Assembly plant came into view. "We're almost there."  
A few corners later, Valentine guided the War Rig off the suspended highway, down to street level. The factory towered overhead, almost close enough to touch.

Valentine parked the War Rig outside the factory gate and sounded the horn. Spotlights came to life, illuminating the massive war machine, and an unfamiliar guard shouted down from the top of the factory's fence. " _Turn that Rig around! If you don't, we'll blow it sky-high!_ "  
"Hell of a welcome," Valentine raised an eyebrow at Nate. "I thought this was your base?"  
With an annoyed scowl, Nate stuck his hands out the Rig's passenger window, opened the door and stood on the side step. " _Hey asshole!_ " Nate shouted back up. " _I live here! I helped Garvey set up this damn settlement! Where the hell is Preston anyway?_ "  
" _He's not...wait…_ " The guard trailed off and lifted a pair of binoculars, before the color drained from his face. " _He's right behind you, and he's got company!_ " The guard turned and grabbed a megaphone, shouting into it. " _RAIDERS! EVERYONE; BATTLE STATIONS!"_

 _Author's Notes:  
_ _Don't I just loooooove cliffhangers?  
I put a lot of effort into this one, trying to flesh out the world a little bit. I think I've made a good start.  
And the cigarette story is 100% true. So that was fun.  
If you like the way the story is going, let me know with a review or two. I should have a new chapter out soon, as well as a new chapter for The Infamous Prom Catastrophe.  
_

 _Till then,  
the Seacopath_


End file.
